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AUTHOR: 


hOMER 


TITLE: 


POPE'S  ΓΗΕ  ILIAD  OF 

HOMER.... 


PLACE: 


W  YORK 


DATE 


1896 


tjaaBaafiMSaiiMaaaiaiiiliiirlffifilwyiiaT^ 


ΓιΛιίίΐΜΜίΜηΊιΐίίίΜι 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
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Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


88HS  

J143  llias. 

Homerus.  ^"°•  ^P«' 

Maxwell   ...   and  PercTval  cilh   "'*''m 

Lonp^ans,  Green  and  co•!  1896         "■     ^''^  ^^'^  '^*«•ϊ 

•         cla's:!c.,!''d.''by  α  R.  fcLi?)"'    '''"'•     ^""'^'^'''^  Longmans'  English 
Series  title  also  at  head  of  t.-p.  . 

'     ^«^        ed.   m  Chubb    P,"i„l^£**•  t'-.^n^axwell,  William  Henry.  1852- 


ed.   ^  Chubb:  P-^.KS!.  -,,-^ΐ- 

Library  of  Congress 

CopjtZ 

Copyright    1896 :  46S96 


13-12230  J  i^ 


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REDUCTION     RATIO: ^.Λ 


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EDITED   BY 

GEORGE   RICE   CARPENTER,    A.B., 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Composition  in  Columbia  College. 


This  series  is  designed  for  use  in  secondary  schools  in  accordance 
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Shakspere's  As  You  Like  It.  With  an  introduction  by  Barrett 
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sity, and  notes  by  William  Lyon  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Instructor  in 
English  Literature  in  Yale  University. 

Defoe's  History  of  the  Plague  in  London.  Edited,  with  intro- 
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With  Portrait  of  Defoe. 


Irving's  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  With  an  introduction  by  Brander 
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George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner.  Edited, with  introduction  and  notes, 
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University  of  Chicago. 

FOR    STUDY. 


With  Portrait  of  George  Eliot. 


Shakspere's  Merchant  of  Venice.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Francis  B.  Gummere,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English  in 
Haverford  College.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D., 
Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 
With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

Scott's  Marmion.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Robert 
Morss  Lovett,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  the 
University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Macaulay's  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  the  Rev.  Huber  Gray  Buehler,  of  the  Hotchkiss 
School,  Lakeville,  Conn.     With  Portrait  of  Johnson. 


m^^S£^:JilMMs^'^ 


LONGMANS'    ENGLISH    CLASSICS^C6ii/i«tt^^. 


Boohs  Prescribed  for  the  i8g8  Examinations. 


FOR   HEADING, 


\ 


lull 


Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II.  Edited,  with  introduc- 
tion and  notes,  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D.,  Professor 
of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  in  Union  College.     With  Portrait  of  Milton. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  I.,  VI-i  XXIL,  and  XXIV.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  William  H.  Maxwell,  A.M., 
Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction,  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  and  Percival 
Chubb,  of  the  Manual  Training  High  School,  Brooklyn.  With 
Portrait  of  Pope. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers,  from  "The  Spectator." 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M., 
English  Master  in  the  Roxbury  Latin  School,  Roxbury,  Mass.  With 
Portrait  of  Addison. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and 
Old  English  in  Smith  College.     With  Portrait  of  Goldsmith. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Herbert  Bates,  A.B.,  Instructor  in 
En^^lish  in  the  University  of  Nebraska.     With  Portrait  of  Coleridge. 

Southey's  Life  of  Nelson.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
Edwin  L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Englewood  High  School,  Illinois. 
With  Portrait  of  Nelson. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate  Principal  of  the  Newark  Acad- 
emy, Newark,  N.  J.     With  Portrait  of  Burns. 

FOR    STUDY, 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  the  English  Language 
in  Brown  university.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D., 
Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 
With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

De  Quincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited,  with  introduc- 
tion and  notes,  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin,  Ph.D.,  Instructor  in 
Rhetoric  in  Yale  University.     With  Portrait  of  De  Quincey. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
George  Edward  Woodberry,  A.B.,  Professor  of  Literature  in 
Columbia  College.     With  Portrait  of  Tennyson. 

%*  See  list  of  the  series  at  end  of  volume  for  books  prescribed  for 

i8gg  and  igoo. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


edited  by 


GEORGE  RICE  CARPENTER,  A.B. 


ALEXANDER  ΓΟΡΕ 


THE  ILIAD  OF  HOMEK 

BOOKS  I.,  VI.,  XXII.,  AND  XXXV. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

WUh  fua  Motee^  Introductions,  Bibliographies,  and  other  Explanatory  and 
Illustrative  Matter.    Crown  8υο.    Cloth. 


BnAKenxTn   Mihchant   of  Vbkicb. 

Edited  by  Francis  H.  Gummere.Ph.D., 
Professor  of  Englieh  in  Haverford 
College. 

Shakspkrb's  As  You  Likb  It.  With 
an  Introduction  by  Barrett  Wendell, 
A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English 
In  Harvard  University,  and  Notes  by 
William  Lyon  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Instruc- 
tor in  English  Literature  in  Yale 
University. 

Shakspebe's  a  Midsummer  Night's 
Dbeam.  Edited  by  George  Pierce 
Baker,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of 
English  in  Harvard  University. 

SHAKepEBE's  Macbtjth.  Edited  by 
John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  the  English  Language  in 
Brown  university. 

Milton's  L'Alleoho,  II  Penseboso, 
C0MU8.  AND  Ltcidas.  Edited  Ijy 
William  P.  Trent,  A.M.,  Professor  of 
English  In  the  University  of  the  South. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I 
AND  II.  Edited  bv  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Rhetoric 
and  Logic  in  Union  College. 

^^??'^^89ί'*»'β  ItiAD.  Books  I., 
VI  XXIL.  AND  XXIV.  Edited  by 
William  H.  Maxwell,  A.M.,  Ph.D.. 
Nupenntendent  of  Public  Instruction, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  and  Porcival  Chubb, 
Instructor  in  English,  Manual  Training 
High  School,  Brooklyn. 

Defoe's  Histort  of  the  PLAotns  in 

London.    Edited  by  Professor  G  Κ 
Carpenter,  of  Columbia  College. 

The  Sir  Roqbb  de  Coverlet  Papers, 
ftom  "The  Spectator."  Edited  by 
p.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M.,  of  the  Roxbury 
Latm  School,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicab  of  Wakefield. 
Edited  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.M., 
Prof*-ssor  of  Rhetoric  and  Old  Euijlish 
in  Smith  College. 

BtTRKE's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with 
America.  Edited  by  Albert  S.  Cook, 
Kh.D.,  L.H.D.,  Professor  of  the  Eng- 
lish Language  and  Literature  in  Yale 
Umverslty. 


Scott  s  Woodstock.  Edited  by  Bliss 
1  erry,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  Oratory 
and  Esthetic  Criticism  in  Princeton 
College. 


Scott's  Marmion.  Edited  by  Robert 
Mors-s  Lovett,  A.B.,  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  English  in  the  University  of 
Chicago. 

Macaulat's  Essay  on  Milton.  Edited 
by  James  Oreenleaf  Croswell.  A.B., 
Head-master  of  the  Brearlev  School, 
New  York,  formerly  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  Greek  in  Harvard  University. 

Macau-lay's  Lifi  of  Samitel  Johnson. 
Edited  by  the  Rev.  Huber  Gray 
Buehier,  of  the  Hotchklss  School, 
Lakeville,  Conn, 

laviNo's  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  With 
an  iTitrocluction  by  Brander  Matthews 
Professor  of  Literature  in  Columbia 
College,  and  Explanatory  Notes  by  the 
general  editor  of  the  series. 

Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Ora- 
tion, together  with  other  Addresses 
relating  to  the  Revolution.  Edited  by 
Fred  Newton  Scott,  Ph.D.,  Junior 
Profe>8or  of  Rhetoric  in  the  University 
of  Michigan. 

CoLERiDOKS  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner.  Edited  by  Herbert  Bates, 
A.B.,  formerly  Instructor  in  English 
in  the  University  of  Nebraska, 

SotTTHET's  Life  OF  Nelson.  Edited  by 
Edwin  L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Engle- 
wood  High  School,  Illinois. 

Cabltle's  Essay  on  Bubns.  Edited 
by.  Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate 
Principal  of  the  Newark  Academy. 
Newark,  N.  J. 

De  Qitincet's  Flight  of  a  Tartar 
iRiBE  (Revolt  of  the  Tartar.•*). 
Edited  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin, 
Ph.D.,  Instructor  in  Rhetoric  in  Yale 
University. 


Tennyson's  The  Princess.  E< 
Georee  Edward  Wood  berry. 
Professor  of  Literature  in  C( 
OnDperf 


Edited  by 
,    A.B., 

'olumbia 


George  Eliot's  Silab  Maxkeh.  Edited 
by  Robert  Herrick,  Λ.Β.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  the  University 
of  Chicago. 


Other  Volumes  are  in  Preparation. 


'-■riwa:fiifeBji^i<SM'w>ail!»i)»i!Ji^jJiaitoji.:-i-.'   ί-.  »,  a..•»..  >.'|.T.  ....  ...   -i-f ...,■»■.-. 


•  ■  *  •    t    • 

•  ,      f         • 


ALEXANDER  POPE 


\l.l  Λ  \  \  ΡΙ,ΐ;    I'l  τ 


IMHiliiaiMillittlil 


ϋΐϋϋϋϋι 


Congmans'  gnglish  (Clacgics 


POPE'S 

THE  ILIAD  OF  HOMEE 

BOOKS  L,  Λ^Ι.,  XXII.,  AND  XXIV. 


EDITED 

WITH    NOTES   AND  AN   INTRODUCTION 


BY 


WILLIAM  H.  MAXWELL,  M.A. 

SUPERINTENDENT  OF  PUBLIC  INSTRUCTION,  BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 

AND 

PERCR^AL  CIIUBB 

INSTRUCTOR  IN  KNGLISH,  MANUAL  TRAINING  HIGH  SCHOOL,  BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


ΝΕΛΥ  YORK 
LONGMANS,   GREEN,  AND   CO. 

LONDON  AND   BOMBAY 
1896 


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.   .  .••  :•  •::  *    : .  •    : 
,  .  •  •••  ••• •  •  •    •  -,•  ••• 


••• 


>• •  •• 


*'• 


*  •  • 


.:  ..• 


CoPTRioHT,  1896 

BY 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 


All  riglUs  reserved 


» 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Aetor  Place,  New  York 


PREFACE 

Although  tlie  work  of  writing  the  Introduction  and  of 
editing  the  text  was,  at  the  outset,  divided  equally  between 
us,  the  part  for  which  each  of  us  was  primarily  responsi- 
ble has  been  carefully  gone  over  by  the  other  ;  and  Ave 
trust  that,  as  an  outcome  of  mutual  criticism  and  counsel, 
a  unified  result  has  been  secured. 

As  these  four  books  of  Pope's  translation  of  the  "  Iliad  " 
have  been  prescribed,  under  the  College  Entrance  Kequire- 
ments,  for  reading,  and  not  for  detailed  study,  the  Intro- 
duction and  annotations  may  seem  to  be  unnecessarily 
full.  It  may  be  explained  that  in  tliis  instance  it  has 
been  thought  well  to  keep  in  view  the  more  general  uses 
to  which  such  a  book  may  be  put.  Now  that  the  study 
of  Greek  is  declining  in  our  schools,  and  Homer  is  read 
in  the  original  by  comparatively  few  people,  a  new  im- 
portance attaches  to  those  translations  by  means  of  which 
Homer  and  the  other  great  writers  of  the  Grecian  world  may 
be  made  known— however  imperfectly  at  second  hand— to 
the  English  reader.  It  is  hoped  that  this  selection  from 
Pope's  translation— the  translation  enjoyed  so  heartily  by 
Byron  as  a  boy,  and  by  many  other  boys,  famed  and  un- 
f-mied- may  serve  to  introduce  Homer  as  well  as  Pope, 
but  especially  Homer,  and  the  ''ivide  expanse  " 

"  That  deep-browed  Homer  ruled  as  his  demesne." 

Tlie  text  here  used  has  been  carefnlly  coHated  with  the 
first  edition  and  the  later  revised  text  as  amended  by  Pope. 
The  best  readings  have  been  followed.  Here  and  there 
the  peculiar  punctuation  and  spelling  of  Pope's  time  have 


b    ,1  ^ 
/   " 


ij  ΰ  ο  4 


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τι 


PREFACE 


been  altered  to  agree  with  modern  usage ;  but,  as  a  gen- 
eral rule,  all  those  peculiarities  which  have  historical 
significance,  and  mark  important  differences  between  the 
usage  of  Pope's  age  and  our  own,  have  been  retained. 

λΥθ  have  found  it  impossible,  even  were  it  desirable,  to 
secure  uniformity  in  the  matter  of  Greek  proper  names. 
Pope  generally  uses  the  Latin  equivalents  for  the  Greek, 
while  many  of  the  commentators  from  whom  we  have 
quoted  use  the  Greek,  and  their  spelling  of  these  varies. 
We  have  usually  allowed  the  variations  to  stand.  It  is 
as  well  that  the  student  should  become  acquainted  with 
them,  and  there  need  be  no  confusion  on  this  account. 


Brooklyn,  July,  1896. 


W.  IT.  M. 
P.  C. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction  : 

I.  Homer  and  tlie  Iliad    . 
II.  Life  iu  Homeric  Times 
HI.  Alexander  Pope  :  Ms  Life,  liis  Age,  and  his  Work 

IV.   Pope's  Homer 
Suggestions  for  Teachers  . 
Chronological  Table   . 

The  Iliad  : 

Book  I.        •         •         •   .     ■ 
Arguments  :  Books  II. -V. 

Book  VI.     . 

Arguments  :  Books  VI I. -XXI. 

BookXXH. 

Argument  :  Book  XXIII.   . 

Book  XXIV.       . 

Map  of  the  Troad  and  the  Hellespont. 


PAGE 

ix 
xxii 

xxvii 
xli 

xlix 

Iv 

3 
34 
36 
63 
71 
96 
96 

1X11 


INTKODUCTION 


I.  Homer  and  the  Iliad. 

Homer's  ''Iliad,"  which  Alexander  Pope  translated 
into  English  verse,  is  an  epic  poem  written  in  the  Greek 
toniiue  *^  An  epic  "  treats  of  one  great,  complex  action,  in 
a  grand  style,  and  with  fulness  of  detail."  The  ''  Iliad  " 
is  the  oldest  European  epic  poem  that  has  come  down  to 
us;  by  many  critics  it  is  regarded  as  the  greatest  of  all  epic 
poems.  Certainly  it  fulfils  the  conditions  of  the  definition : 
it  treats  of  a  great  complex  action;  it  treats  of  that  action 
in  a  grand  style,  and  with  fulness  of  detail. 

The  action  of  the  ''  Iliad  "  is  laid  at  a  time  anterior  to 
authentic  European  history.    Homer  is  ''  the  first  author," 
says  Professor  Jebb,  "  who  presents  any  clear  or  vivid  pict- 
ure   of  Aryan  civilisation."     ''The  poems  of  Homer," 
Mr.  Gladstone  declares,  "  do  not  constitute  merely  a  great 
item  of  the  splendid  literature  of  Greece;  but  they  have 
a  separate  position,  to  which  none  other  can  approach. 
They,  and  the  manners  they  describe,  constitute  a  world 
of  their  own;  and   are  severed  by  a  sea  of  time,  whose 
breadth  has  not  been  certainly  measured,  from  the  firmly- 
set  continent  of  recorded  tradition  and  continuous  fact. 
In  this  sea  they  lie,  as  a  great  island.     And  in  this  island 
we  find  not  merely  details  of  events,  but  a  scheme   of 
human  life  and  character,  complete  in  all  its  parts.     λΥβ 
are-  introduced  to  man  in  every  relation  of  which  he  is 
capable— in  every  one  of  his  arts,  devices,  institutions;  in 
the  entire  circle  of  his  experience." 

The  scheme  of  human  life  and  character  to  which  we 
are  introduced  in  the  "  Iliad  "  and  that  other  great  epic 


INTRODUCTION 


generally  attributed  to  Homer— the  'Odyssey  "—arose 
among  the  Achaeans.  Long  before  the  Greeks  called 
themBelves  Hellenes;  long  before  the  Dorians  had  invaded 
southern  Greece;  long  before  tlie  three  great  divisions  of 
the  Hellenic  race— the  ^Eolians,  the  Dorians,  and  the 
lonians— were  marked  off,  these  Achaeans  had  settled  in 
Thessaly,  Boeotia,  the  greater  part  of  the  Peloponnesus,  in  ' 
the  islands  of  the  western  coast,  in  Crete,  and  in  some  of 
the  islands  of  Asia  Minor.  There  they  developed  the 
civilisation  that  reveals  itself  in  the  poems  of  Homer,  and 
that  is  attested  by  the  excavations  of  Schliemann  among 
the  ruins  of  Mycenae. 

^  From  these  two  sources— the  poems  of  Homer  and  pre- 
historic remains  found  in  the  ruins  of  buried  cities,  partic- 
ularly My  ceuie,  the  chief  city  of  the  Aclupans— it  is  pos- 
sible to  gain  some  idea  of  Achaean  civilisation.  That 
civilisation  was  essentially  the  result  of  aristocratic,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  popular,  rule.  ^'The  *  Iliad '  and  the 
*  Odyssey,'"  says  Mr.  Walter  Leaf,  ^-are  essentially  and 
above  all  court  poems.  They  are  composed  to  be  sung  in 
the  splendid  palaces  of  a  ruling  aristocracy,  and  the  com- 
monalty have  no  part  or  lot  as  actors  in  them."  Further- 
more, continues  Mr.  Leaf,  '*  they  are  the  offspring  of  an 
advanced  civilisation,  the  growth  of  centuries;  and  of  a 
civilisation  which  was  approaching  its  decline  and  fall." 

The  opening  lines  of  the  '*  Iliad,"  thus  translated  by 
Pope : 

'"  Achilles'  wrath,  to  Greece  the  direful  spring         ' 
Of  woes  unnumber'd,  heav'nly  goddess,  sing  I " 

indicate  the  main  subject  of  the  poem— the__wr:ath  of 
Achilles  and  its  effects.  With  the  incident  that  causes  his 
wrath,  it  begins;  when  IngJvTayiis^i^pfiased,  it  ends.  The 
poem  is  not,  as  the  title  might  be  supposed  to  imply,  a 
history  of  the  war  waged  by  the  Achseans  against  Ilium,  or, 
as  it  was  otherwise  called,  Troy;  but  an  incident  occupy- 
ing twenty-nine  days  in  the  last  year  of  that  war.     Tlie 


INTRODUCTION 


XI 


war  had  broken  out  nine  years  before.     According  to  the 
Homeric  legend,  it  arose  in  this  wise.     Ilium,  or  Troy,  was 
the  capital  of  a  kingdom  situated  on  the  northwest  corner 
of  Asia  Minor,  on  the  shores  of  the  Hellespont.     Priam 
was  its  king.     His  son  Paris,  visiting  Greece,  was  enter- 
tained by  Menelaus,  King  of    Sparta.      Paris  persuaded 
Helen   the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world,  the  wile  ot 
Menel'aus,  to  elope  with  him.      To  avenge  this  wrong, 
Menelaus  called  upon  all  the  kings  of  Greece  to  aid  him. 
They  were  the  more  ready  to  do  so,  because,  before  Helen  s 
marriage,  she  had  been  wooed  by  nearly  all  the  great  chief- 
tains of   Greece,  who  had  taken  an  oath  to  sustain  her 
choice  and  to  avenge  her  wrongs.     A  vaEthost  set  sail  from 
Aulis  in  Boeotia  for  Troy.     Agamemnon,  king  of  Mycen^, 
the  brother   of    Menelaus,   was   chosen    general-m-chief. 
Under  him  served,  besides  Menelaus,  Achilles,  son  of  Pe- 
leus  and  the  sea-goddess  Thetis,  the  greatest  of  the  Greek 
warriors;  Ulysses,  king  of  Ithaca;  Ajax,  the  son  of  Tela- 
mon;  Diomedes,  king  of  Argos,  the  son  of  Tydeus;  and 
Nestor,  king  of  Pylos,  the  oldest  of  the  Greek  clueftams, 
whose  name  has  become  a  synonym  for  sagacity. 

On  the  other  side,  King  Priam  was  too  old  to  take  the 
field  The  leadership,  therefore,  fell  to  Hector,  Priam  s 
son,  the  greatest  warrior  of  the  Trojans.  The  other  great 
Trojan  chieftains  were  ^neas,  son  of  Anchises  and  the 
goddess  Venus,  whom  Virgil  makes  the  hero  of  the 
*'^neid";  Deiphobus,  another  son  of  Priam;  and  Glau- 
cus  and  Sarpedon,  leaders  of  the  Lycian  allies  of  Troy. 

During  the  nine  years  of  unsuccessful  war  against  Troy, 
the  Grecian  princes  had  made  many  petty  conquests  of 
neighboring  cities  and  states.  In  the  division  of  booty 
following  one  of  these  conquests,  the  maiden  Chryseis 
had  become  the  prize  of  Agamemnon.  Her  father, 
Chryses,  a  priest  of  Phoebus  (Apollo),  offers  a  prince  y 
ransom  for  the  restoration  of  his  daughter,  but  is  rudely 
repulsed  by  Agamemnon.  Chryses  then  prays  to  Phcebus 
for  vengeance.     In  answer,  the  god  sends  a  pestilence  on 


XI 1 


IJSTRODUCTIOJS 


\τ 


f 


INTRODUCTION 


the  Grecian  Iiost.  ί  Mca  general  assembly,  Achilles  calls 
upon  Calciias,  the  seer,  to  declare  the  cause  of  this  pesti- 
lence. Calchas  proclaims  it  to  be  the  refusal  of  Agamem- 
non to  accept  ransom  for  Chryseis•.  After  a  fierce  debate, 
Agamemnon  declares  that  he  will  resign  Chryseis,  but  will 
take  instead  Briseis,  a  maiden  awarded  as  a  prize  to 
Achilles.  This  tlireat  he  executes.  Enraged  at  the  affront 
thus  put  upon  him,  Achilles  retires  with  his  followers,  the 
Myrmidons,  to  his  tent  by  the  shore,  vows  that  he  will 
fight  for  the  Greeks  no  more,]  and  prays  for  aid  to  his 
mother  Thetis.  Thetis  prevails  upon  Jupiter,  the  king  of 
the  gods,  to  promise  that  the  Trojans  shall  be  victorious  in 
the  war  until  justice  is  done  and  due  honor  is  paid  to  her 
son  Achilles. 

These  events  occu])y  the  first  book.  In  the  second 
book,  Jupiter  prompts  Agamemnon  to  marshal  the  Grecian 
host  ill  the  absence  of  Achilles.  The  next  seven  books 
rekUe  the  exploits  of  the  other  Greek  heroes,  and  various 
acts  of  intervention  on  the  part  of  the  gods.  During  a 
truce,  Menelaus  and  Paris  fight  a  duel,  on  which  the  issue 
of  the  war  is  to  depend;  and  Paris  is  saved  from  death  only 
by  the  timely  aid  of  Venus.  Then  the  truce  is  broken  by 
the  Trojan  Pandarus,  who,  at  the  crafty  suggestion  of 
Minerva,  wounds  Menelaus  with  an  arrow.  The  gods  and 
goddesses  themselves  take  part  in  the  fight.  Diomedes 
slaughters  many  Trojans,  and,  with  the  aid  of  Minerva, 
wounds  even  Mars  and  \'enus.  In  the  sixth  book,  Hector 
retires  from  the  battle  to  Troy  and  bids  farewell  to  his 
wife,  Andromache.  In  the  seventh  book.  Hector  and  Ajax 
engage  in  single  combat,  and  the  Greeks  are  compelled  to 
build  a  wall  to  protect  their  camp  from  the  Trojans. 
Jupiter  then  commands  the  gods  to  refrain  from  giving  aid 
to  eitlier  side,  while  he  himself  gives  the  advantage  to  the 
Trojans.  Fearing  utter  defeat,  Agamemnon  sends  (ninth 
book)  Ulysses,  Ajax,  and  Phaiuix  to  Achilles,  offering  to 
restore  Briseis  and  to  make  all  due  amends,  if  he  will  come 
to  the  aid  of  his  countrymen.     Achilles  sternly  refuses. 


xni 


Notwithstanding  the  prodigies  of  valor  performed  by  the 
Greek  chieftains.  Hector  and  the  Trojans  continue  to  gain 
the  upper  hand,  until,  in  the  fifteenth  book,  they  set  fire 
to  one  of  the  Greek  ships.  Then  Patroclus,  the  bosom 
friend  of  Achilles,  begs  and  obtains  permission  to  lead  the 
Myrmidons  to  the  rescue.  Dressed  in  Achilles'  armor, 
Patroclus  checks  the  Trojan  onslaught,  and  slays  Sarpedou, 
the  leader  of  the  Lycians,  but  is  himself  slain  by  Hector. 

Overcome  with  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  friend,  and 
burning  to  avenge  his  death,  Achilles  becomes  reconciled 
to  Agamemnon,  and  prepares  for  battle.  Clad  in  armor 
specially  wrought  for  him  by  \^ulcan,  the  god  of  fire  and 
metallic  art,  he  is  the  central  figure  of  the  battle.  In  the 
last  eight  books,  ''  the  figure  of  Achilles  towers  aloft  and 
overshadows  every  other.  His  grief  is  as  portentous  as 
his  wrath."  He  slaughters  the  Trojans  without  mercy, 
and  drives  them  within  their  walls.  Finally  he  meets 
Hector  in  single  combat,  slays  him,  and  drags  his  body, 
tied  to  his  chariot,  to  the  Greek  camp.  In  the  twenty- 
third  book,  Achilles  pays  the  lact  rites  to  his  friend  Patro- 
clus and  institutes  games  in  his  honor.  In  the  twenty- 
fourth  book,  the  aged  King  Priam  seeks  the  tent  of 
Achilles  to  ransom  the  body  of  Hector.  Achilles  receives 
him  courteously  and  accepts  the  ransom.  The  poem  con- 
cludes with  the  burial  rites  for  Hector  in  Troy. 

Such  in  brief  is  the  story  of  the  ''Iliad."  Up  to  the 
close  of  the  last  century,  it  was  generally  believed  that  the 
*'Hiad"  and  the 'Odyssey"  were  the  Λvork  of  a  single 
poet.  In  1 795,  however,  Friedrich  August  Wolf,  a  professor 
in  the  University  of  Halle,  Prussia,  published  a  work  called 
''Prolegomena  to  Homer,"  which  was  the  beginning  of  a 
controversy  that  is  not  yet  ended.  Wolf  contended  that  the 
Homeric  poems  were  originally  lays  or  ballads,  composed 
separately,  and  handed  down  by  memory  without  the  aid 
of  writing.  These  lays  were  afterwards  reduced  to  writ- 
ing, patched  together  into  their  present  form,  and  "pol- 
ished and  amended  "  by  a  number  of  editors,  probably  in 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


INTJiODVCTION 


XV 


the  age  of  Pisistratus  (about  550  B.C.).  He  founds  his 
conclusions,  first,  on  the  alleged  lack  of  writing  in  the 
Achaean  age;  second,  on  the  existence  of  certain  inconsis- 
tencies in  the  narrative;  and,  third,  on  the  presence,  in 
some  parts  of  the  poem,  of  less  archaic  grammatical  forms 
than  in  other  parts.  To  these  arguments,  the  answer  is 
made  that  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  Homer  was  ignorant 
of  writing;  that  the  retention  in  the  memory  of  a  poem  as 
long  as  the  "Iliad"  is  not  an  impossible  feat;  and  that, 
as  to  the  inconsistencies  in  plot  and  language,  "the  old 
bards  were  not  singing  for  minute  inquirers  and  gramma- 
rians, but  for  people  who  freely,  and  even  recklessly,  gave 
play  to  their  fancy  as  they  listened."  ^ 

While  there  are  now  few  scholars,  if  any,  who  believe 
that  the  "  Iliad "  remains  to-day  as  it  Avas  recited  by 
Homer  in  the  halls  of  Achsean  princes,  yet  the  prevailing 
opinion  is  that  the  "Iliad,"  if  it  is  not  "one  epic  by 
one  hand,'  yet  containc,  though  with  additions  of  a  later 
day,  "one  epic  by  one  hand."  The  proof  is  the  unity  of 
the  plot  that  runs  throughout  the  poem — it  treats  of  "  one 
great,  complex  action."  Do  Quincey  ingeniously  shows 
this  unity  of  plot  by  tracing  backwards  the  various  steps 
through  which  it  advances: 

**  Every  canto,"  he  says,  •'  in  this  main  section  implies  every 
other.  Thus  the  funeral  of  Hector  implies  that  his  body  had  been 
ransomed.  That  fact  implies  the  whole  journey  of  Priam  to  the 
tents  of  Achilles.  Tliis  journey,  so  fatiguing  to  the  aged  king,  and, 
in  the  compulsory  absence  of  his  bodyguard,  so  alarming  to  a  fee- 
ble old  prince,  implies  the  death  and  capture  of  Hector.  For  no 
calamity  less  than  that  could  have  prompted  such  an  extreme  step 
as  a  suppliant  and  perilous  pilgrimage  to  the  cajutal  enemy  of  his 
house  and  throne.  But  how  should  Hector  and  Achilles  have  met 
in  battle,  after  the  wrathful  vow  of  Achilles  ?  That  argues  the 
death  of  Patroclus  as  furnishing  the  sufBcient  motive.  But  the  death 
of  Patroclus  argues  the  death  of  Sarpedon,  the  Trojan  ally,  which 
it  was  that  roused  the  vindictive  fury  of  Hector.  These  events  in 
their  turn  argue  the  previous  success  of  the  Trojans,  wliich  had 

*  Andrew  Lang,  Bbmertmd  the  Epic,  p.  79. 


τ 


i 


*  Α,.,1    \h\^  success  of  the  Trojans 

tation." 

u  ,  tl,U  k  not  all     The  plot  of  the  "  Iliad  "  evolves  tlie 

a  consiaerable  section  ot  tl.c        a        a  «.tastropl.e,  and 

,„ost  fnll  of  n,otion.  «^  ''"'"^' .  ^'^^'^ί;.:',,  eiple,  a  ehavaeter  the 
throngli  whiel.  runs,  as  the  <-""'"=«"-  „^  ,,^^^.  eould 

„o.t  brilliant,  '"'V-annnous  a.       bU   U  I  ,.„  ^  ^^^^^^  ^^  ^ 

eonueivo-^...  '^^^^^^^φ  that  section  ot  the  '  Iliad' 
,,„gle  nnnd^  J;~J^  oi  .h\.^^  looks  forward  and  backward  to 
m  a  series  of  phages,  evcnu  thron"h  his  diurnal  course, 

all  the  rest.     He  travels  like  the  «in  th>o  .h  ^^^  ^,^^ 

We  sec  him  first  of  al   rising  u^on  u.  .  ^i  Ρ  mcel y      ._^^^^^^^^  ,^  ^^.^ 
welfare  of  the  Grecian  host      W  e  see  m  '^^^^       ^nd  boil- 

,ng  with  you  hful  l'lo"| '    "^^  ^         though  having  now  so 

retiring  in  clouded  n.a  estv  l^vui  i  (,^  ,^^,,.,^ο  of  the  early 
excellent  a  plea  for  '«"'"f ,''"';  7='/ ^"^tiHins  to  profit  by  the  eva- 
death  that  awaited  I-"  >  .  I^  t\h  td  fidl  and  generously 
sion.  We  see  him  still  '^'"^  "'';„,„„;  ι„  deserted  him.  We 
unable  to  '^f'' ^^^^  .dmUngaU  t'le  duties  of  religion, 
see  him  in  a  dignified  "-'^  "  "^^^''^,,^^  Ushed  man  ot  taste,  cnl- 
fviendship  hospital^  and,  ^'■^^^^^^^J  ^  ,„  surrendering  his 
tivating  the   arts  °'   P"™:  „  J,,i,„,iship.  that  he  comes  forth  at 

rrthe"r,a:n:.Te  1:1,  ":f  nalis  fiy  tr.i   the  sound. 
Never  but  onee  again  is  such  a  shout  recorded  by  a  poet  .  ,, 

.  He  ealld  so  loud ,  that  all  the  hollow  deep 
Of  hell  resounded.' 

η   1  ■)     ThnI  «hout  was  the  shout  of  an  archangel.    Next  we 
Who  called?     i/iai  snoui  wnt>  ι .         „„„f  f,.;„n,l  to  assume  his  own 


χ  ν  1 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


XTll 


suggest,  that  not  the  divine  weapons  but  the  iin mortal  arm  of  the 
wielder  had  made  thera  invincible.  His  friend  perishes.  Then  we 
see  him  rise  in  his  noontide  wrath,  before  wliicli  no  life  could  stand. 
The  frenzy  of  his  grief  makes  him  for  a  time  cruel  and  implacable. 
He  sweeps  the  field  of  battle  like  a  monsoon.  His  revenge  descends 
perfect,  sudden,  like  a  curse  from  heaven.  We  now  recognize  the 
goddess-born.  This  is  his  avatar— the  incarnate  descent  of  his 
wrath.  Had  he  moved  to  battle  under  the  ordinary  impulses  of 
Ajax,  Diomed,  and  the  other  heroes,  we  never  could  have  sympa- 
thised or  gone  along  with  so  withering  a  course.  We  should  have 
viewed  liim  as  a  'scourTO  of  God,' or  fiend,  born  for  the  tears  of 
wives  and  the  maledictions  of  mothers.  But  the  poet,  before  he 
Λvould  let  him  loose  upon  men,  creates  for  him  a  suflicient,  or  at 
least  palliating,  motive.  In  the  sternest  of  liis  acts  we  read  only 
the  anguisli  of  his  grief.  This  is  surely  the  perfection  of  art.  At 
length  the  worlv  of  destruction  is  finished  ;  but  if  the  poet  leaves 
him  at  this  point,  there  would  bo  a  want  of  repose,  and  we  should 
be  left  with  a  painful  impression  of  his  hero  as  forgetting  the  earlier 
humanities  of  ids  nature,  and  brought  forward  only  for  final  exhibi- 
tion  in  his  terrific  phases.  Now,  therefore,  by  machinery  the  most 
natural,  wo  see  this  p:iramount  hero  travelling  back  within  our  gen- 
tler sympathies,  and  revolving  to  his  rest  like  the  vesper  sun  dis- 
robed of  his  blazing  terrors.  Wo  see  him  settling  dowli  to  that 
humane  and  princely  character  in  which  he  had  been  first  exhibited  ; 
we  see  him  relenting  at  the  sight  of  Priam's  gray  hairs,  touched 
with  the  sense  of  human  calamity,  and  once  again  mastering  his 
passion  (grief  now)  as  formerly  he  had  mastered  his  wrath.  He  con- 
sents that  his  feud  shall  sleep  ;  he  surrenders  the  cor|)se  of  his  capi- 
tal enemy  ;  and  the  last  farewell  chords  of  the  poem  rise  with  a 
solemn  intonation  from  the  grave  of  '  Hector,  the  tamer  of  horses  '— 
that  noble  soldier  who  had  so  long  been  the  column  of  his  country, 
and  to  whom,  in  his  dying  moments,  the  stern  Achilles  had  declared 
—but  then  in  the  middle  career  of  his  grief— that  no  honorable 
burial  should  ever  be  granted." 

Fiirtlierinore,  the  *'  Iliad  "  discloses  not  only  a  unity  of 
plot,  but  a  unity  of  style.  Homer,  says  Mr.  Gladstone,  is 
*'  the  most  characteristic  of  all  poets."  "  Traits  personal 
to  himself  inhere  in  his  whole  work,  and  perpetually  reap- 
pear upon  the  surface."  Matthew  Arnold  has  pointed 
out  four  of  the  most  striking  of  these  traits:^  Homer  is 

*  Matthew  Arnold,  On  Translating  Homer,  p.  149. 


\ 


■       n,r  vnr,i,l  in  his  movement;   Homer  is  eminently 

T-"Tnd  d  r        b  th   η  the  evolution  of  his  thought  and 
plain  and  direct,  boin  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^ 

;:Lto:riZer1s";m-::nti;  plain   and  direct  in  the 

ilance  'of  his  thought,  that  is,  ^^^ζ^^Ι^:^^' 
and,  finally,  Homer  is  em"-""tly  -b^e   η  1-  m--';. 

j::ip^:s^r^^^^  Κπ  -  found 

r;  οΪΪΧΐ•  ••  il  ton  is  perha is  the  best  exemplar  of  the 
se,  'O'^'^J''  [\  ,.  .  „  ^ijeii  the  poet  compresses  a  world 
grand  style  in    seventy,     wui-  i  «oet's  mind  is 

Zf  tViniKTlit  into  a  few  words—    when  me  put  υ  ο 
1  fin  c  a  ged  to  suffer  him  to  speak  more  explici  ly. 
ΐΐ  ΐ  lo  tnffrom  Wordsworth  is  an  example  which  no 
ine  cai  miX  and  which  should  be  borne  in  mind  as  a 
"  touchstone  "  to  apply  to  other  poetry 

•■  The  ante-chai>el,  where  the  statue  .food 
0(  Newton  with  liis  prism  ami  silent  face. 
The  marble  inaex  ot  a  luiml  for  «••'" 
Vovagins  thfough  strange  seas  of  thought,  alone. 

^  \     1        r^-^o  "      Thp  following  from  the  twentj-iouiLu 
and  clearness.         J-ne  luuuwiu^^ 

book  is  a  perfect  ilUistration : 

iXoVZ^ocpa.o.o  nor  I  6ro,a  χεΙρ  opeye60a. 

1       1     fV,o  liU'p  whereof  no  soul  upon  the  earth 

" ''"''   '  Γ",  'teat; to  η     u;  t^^  hand  of  him  who  slew  my 
hath  yet  endured— to  cany  lo  my  n^a 

"".'''The  noble  manner  of  Homer,"  ^-J^ ^fζ^J^t, 
..  ,.„as  itself  with  equal  ease  to  ovei^  m^^o   — ^^ 

r;;:r;^;a:rbrifis^tt=ti.tiiyitseifin 


t  i„^j<Mn.:utiiei.X-Vijiilit,-ta^^  :iJtnii'i,is!lx'iaiiiiS!rSM!Bb£SBi3ieii!ai>i^^ 


XV  III 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


XIX 


shedding  a  uuiiuy  or  tender  grace  over  the  gentlest  or 
homeliest  of  scenes."  ^ 

In   the   use  of  the   simile,   Professor  Jebb   points  out 
another  cluinicteristic  of  Homer's  style.     "  The  iirst  point 
to  observe,"  he  says,    *'is  that  Homeric  simile  is  not  a 
mere  ornament.     It  serves  to  introdnce  something  which 
Homer  desires  to  render  exceptionally  impressive— some 
moment,  it  may  be,  of  peculiarly  intense  action— some 
sight,  or  sound,  full  of  wonder,   or  terror,  or  pity— in  a 
word,  something  great.     He  wishes  to  prepare  us  for  it  by 
first  describing    something   similar,   only  more   familiar, 
which  he  feels  sure  of  being  able  to  make  us  see  clearly." 
To  this  end  he  takes  pains  to  give  all  the  details  of  the 
*' something  similar"  that  are  necessary  to  impart  clear- 
cut,   sharp    outlines   to   the   picture.     **  When   Homer," 
continues  Professor  Jebb,    "compares  A  to   B,  he   will 
often  add  details  concerning  Β  which  have  no  bearing  on 
the  comparison.     For  instance,  when  the  sea-god  Poseidon 
soars  into  the  air  from  the  Trojan  plain,  he  is  compared  to 
a  hawk  (xiii.,  63), — 

'  That  from  a  beetling  brow  of  rock 
Launched  in  mid  air  forth  dashes  to  pursue 
Some  lesser  bird  along  the  plain  below : ' 

but  Poseidon  is  not  pursuing  anyone;  the  point  of  simili- 
tude is  solely  the  speed  through  the  air."  The  detail  in 
the  tliird  line  is  added  **to  place  a  concrete  image  before 
the  mind."  "The  hawk,  for  example,  to  Λvhonl  Posei- 
don is  likened,  is  more  vividly  conceived  when  it  is  described 
as  doing  a  particular  act  characteristic  of  a  hawk,  viz., 
pursuing  another  bird."  **Tho  poet's  delight  in  a  pict- 
ure," Professor  Jebb  continues,  '*and  the  Hellenic  love 
of  clear-cut  form,  are  certainly  present;  but  both  are 
subordinate  to  a  sense  that  the  object  which  furnishes  the 

'  R.  C.  Jebb,  Ebmer :  an  Introduction  to  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey, 
p.  18. 


I 


I 


simile  must  be  distinct  before  the  simile  itself  can  be 
effective."  ^  gj^^ow  each  of   his  great 

Aga.n,  »°*  ^^'y  ΐ^l^,f;i.,αivid„ality  of  character,  but 
personages  with  a  stulviBn  »i^  ^portraiture  of  each  iu- 
ie  is  in  the  maux  cons.s  ent        ]-,P°S Lit  has  been 

f 'id  Γϋί  Q  i. -y  in  tt  case  of  Achilles.     The 
described  by  Ue  '^"  "l^^  j ^^  epitomizes  the  more 

and  the  *^  Odyssey": 

..κ..„  direct  >-\:^:^,^ζ^^ς::::^ι^ 

Such,  in  the  first  Ρ  ';-:;::;,''^η  Γ^/η  ,d   η  so.-ro«,  capable  also  of 
type  ot  heroic  .night,  \.olent '"  ''"7"  j,,^  ,,,,„  of  resource- 

ch  valrous  and  tc.dcr  >^°"'P='*^"'"  '  ^.^,\'!'l;,  e  in  whom  the  power 
iul  intelligence  joined  to  hei-oic  -"^^  since  the 

of  Hon,er  is  seen  even  ^f^'j^^^^^,,,,  ^ncceeded  in  effacing 
debased  Odysseus  of  late  Grk  poetry  r^         ^^^  ^^^  ^,,^ 

the  nobler  image  of  his  Homenc  «"οίη  insight- 

Homevic  types  of  women.  -/''^'"'^'^^^Ϊ^^^'^Χ,  Γ  losing  Hector, 
Andromache,  the  young  w,te  ''"^  J^;'^  ';^™  j,  ^er  lo^g-absent 

„ust  lose  .^1  ;  P-f  J!',  ;:::r';  ::t:Sc,ear:sighted,  keenly  sen- 
lord  ;  the  Helen  of  the  l'""•  ^™'  '.  ^,  ^^ι^η  of  the  '  Odys- 
sitive  to  any  kindness  shown  her  at,  Troy     U,e  ^^^^,^^ 

sev,'  restored  to  honor  in  her  home  at  Spart^a    ^^^^  ^^„j  {«ct 

so  beautiful  in  the  dawning  promise  «J  ^  "«^l; J;—**  y,J  Aga- 
in  her  delicacy,  her  grace,  ''"'I  h'^'•  «^"".'"'^""'"X  Homeric  epic 
™emnon  to  Thersites  there  is  no  P';^»-^^"*  '^£  "neh  we  c'a η 
on  whom  Homer  has  j"  ^  ;';'  of  rara'^ter  Le  marked  as 
feel  as  distinctive.     Hit-  dnine  t>pe»  ._Zeus,  the  imperi- 

clearly,  and  in  the  same  '"•-""; j^^tmi""-  n'^olerant  of  con.pet- 
ous  but  genial  ruler  °t";';^«'>;;>X  actions  or  his  appetites  ; 
ing  might,  but  manageable  thiough  1.1.  a  i^_ihc  advance- 

Hera,  his  wife,  who  never  \--;^^„'^'/lt\i'„^f mutinous  petulance 

„ent  ot  ^^^^^■'^fj^l^iXt:  ;  he  point  at  which  her  lord's 
istemperedbyatemnineiieiccpu  1  blandishments; 

character  requires  that  f ''^^^''""''^^  .f '  ,f  letive  in  upholding  the 
Apollo,  the  minister  of  d^•^*.  the  piophet,  ae  y        ^^^^^^^_ 

^l^J:tZ^:^'  n«en•  opposed  to  the  purposes  of 


XX 


INTRODUCTlOJSr 


ν 


INTRODUCTION 


XXI 


Zeii?,— at  once  a  mighty  goddo^^  of  war,  and  the  goddess  who  pre- 
sides over  art  and  industry.*' 

« 

If  then,  the  "  Iliad  "  possesses  unity  of  plot;  if  its  style 
is  throughout  marked  by  the  same  characteristics— rapid- 
ity in  movement,  plainness  and  directness  in  language, 
plainness  and  directness  in  thouglit,  nobleness  in  manner, 
and  fulness  of  detail  in  similitudes;    and  if  its  types  of 
character  are  consistent  with  themselves— the  conclusion  is 
difficult  to  resist  that  tlie  poem  was  substantially  the  work 
of  one  man,  Λνΐιο  is  called  Homer.    Changes  there  liave  been 
in  the  text,  no  doubt;  interpolations  there  have  been,  also; 
and  probably  large  additions:   but  the  original  ''Iliad'' 
that  fell  from  Homer's  lips  is  the  groundwork— is  the  chief 
part— of    the    -'Iliad"    translated    by  Alexander   Pope. 
''The  aesthetic  critic,"   says  John  Addington  Symonds, 
"finds  no  difficulty  in  conceding,  nay,  is  eager  to  claim,  a 
long  genealogy  through  antecedent,  now  forgotten,  poems 
of    the  'Iliad.'      But  about   this,  of  one  thing,  at  any 
rate,  he  will  be  sure,  after  due  experience  of    the  tests 
applied  by  Wolf  and  his  followers,  that  a  great  artist  gave 
its  present  form  to  the  'Iliad;'  that  he  chose  from  the 
whole  Trojan  tale  a  central  subject  for  development;  and 
that  all  the  episodes  and  collateral  matter  with  which  he 
enriched  his  epic  were  arranged  by  him  with  a  view  to  the 
effect  that  he  had  calculated." 

Who,  then,  was  Homer  ?  When  and  where  did  he  live  ? 
No  definite  answer  can  be  made  to  these  questions.  The 
conclusion  reached  by  the  majority  of  scholars— a  conclu- 
sion derived  chiefly  from  the  internal  evidence  of  the 
poems  themselves— is  that  the  author  of  the  *"  Iliad  "  was  a 
European  Greek,  who  lived  before  the  Greek  colonies  were 
planted  in  Asia  Minor.  Many  cities,  the  list  of  which 
Cicero  embodied  in  a  hexameter  line, — 

"Smyrna,  Cliios,  Colophon,  Salamis,  Ehodes,  Argos,  Athen»," 
claimed  to  be  the  birthplace  of  Homer;  but  their  claims 


,  1 


I 


probably  mean  no  more  than  that  these  places  were  at 
various  times  centres  of  interest  in  Homeric  poetry 

A   more   important   question   arises  as  to  bow  far  the 
"Iliad  "  within  a  mass  of  mythological  and  poetic  lore, 
embadies  a  kernel  of  historic  fact.      The  discoveries  of 
Schliemann  and  others  at  Mycena.  and  Tiryns  in  Argolis 
the  former  of  which  Homer  represents  as  the  capita   of 
Igaieninon's  kingdom,  reveal  a  P-historic  civulisa^ion 
which  scholars  generally  agree  in  regardmg  as  Acb^an. 
Furthermore,  Schliemann  has  proved  that  in  the  iioad- 
Sie  reZ'n   which  the  "Iliad"   locates   Troy-there 
a laUv  existed  a  great  city  that  flourished  in  pi.-hist^r|c 
times  before  the  planting  of  the  Greek  colonies  in  Asia 
MTno'r      The  exact  localising  of  the  scenes  of  the  poem 
Sves  color  to  the   assumption  that  before    he  dawn  of 
hktory  a  great  Achaean  armament,  under  the  leadership  of 
Agamemnon,  invaded  and  conquered  the  Troad,  or  land 

The^Troad   is  the  northwestern  promontory  of   Asia 
Minor      It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  Hellespont 
(Dardanelles),  and  the  western  part  of  the  Propontis   Sea 
of  Marmora)    on  the  west,  by  the  iEgean  Sea;  on  the  south, 
by  the  Gulf  of  Adramyttium;  and  on  the  east,  by  the  range 
of  Mt.  Ida.      Through  this  territory  l^ie  river  fcamander 
(the  modern  name  is  Mendere)  flows  first  west  and  then 
lorthwest  from  Mt.  Ida  to  the  Hellespont.      From    he 
point  where  the  Scamander  empties  into  the  Hellespont, 
a  plain  extends  north  along  the  coast  about  eight  miles 
with  a  varying  breadth  from  east  to  west  ο    from  two  to 
tliree  miles.     In  this  plain  there  are  two  sites  of  ancient 
cities,  both  of  which   have  been  claimed  as  the  sites  ot 
Homer's  Troy.     One  of  these  is  the  flat  nio-^'id  of  His«ii^ 
lik,  elevated  about  one  hundred  and  twelve  feet  above  the 
open   plain,  in  which  Dr.  Schliemann  found,  below  the 
remains  of  Greek  cities,  the  first  of  which  was  probably 
founded  about  700  B.C.,  the  remains  of  a  pre-historic  town 
which  he  identified  as  Troy.     Professor  Jebb,  on  the  other 


i 


XXll 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


xxui 


hand,  liolcls  that  this  town  does  not  fulfil  the  description 
of  Homer,  who  tells  of  a  city  with  a  high  acropolis,  or  cit- 
adel, from  whicli  precipitous  rocks  descend  to  the  plain 
beneath.     He  prefers  to  locate  Troy,  not  at  Hissarlik,  but 
on  the  hill  called  Bali  Dagh,  above  the  village  of  Bunar- 
bashi,  near  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Trojan  plain. 
This  hill  exactly  answers  Homer's  description.     It  has  a 
height  of  about  four  hundred  feet,  with  sheer  precipices 
descending  on  the  south  and  southwest  to  the  valley  of  the 
Scamander.     It  also  contains  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
city.     Until  quite  recently  it  was  supposed  that  two  springs 
or  wells  to  the  northwest  of  this  hill  are  identical  with 
tlie  two  springs  mentioned  in  the  twenty-second  book.     If 
such   springs  exist,  the  evidence  in  favor  of  the   latter 
site  would  be  well  nigh  conclusive.     Explorers  are  now, 
however,  pretty  well  agreed  either  that  no  sucli  springs— 
one  hot  and  one  cold— ever  existed  in  the  plain  of  Scaman- 
der, or  that  they  have  disappeared.     The  springs  that  tit 
Homer's  description  are  twenty  miles  distant,  on" the  slope 
of  Mt.  Ida.     The  controversy  over  these  two  sites— that  at 
Hissarlik  and  tliat  at  Bali  Dagh— is  still  waging  among 
archieologists,  and  will  be  settled  only  by  some  conclusive 
discorery. 

II.  Life  ix  Ηομεκιγ  Times. 

Whatever  theory  may  be  held  as  to  the  amount  of  his- 
toric truth  in  the  tale  of  Troy,  tliere  can  be  no  doubt  that 
Homer  describes,  probably  with  poetical  exaggeration,  a 
political,  social,  and  religious  life  t!iat  had  a  real  exist- 
ence. As  some  knowledge  of  this  life  is  necessarv  to  an 
intelligent  reading  of  the  **  Iliad,"  the  main  points  are 
briefly  presented: 

1.  Geof/raphtf. —The  earth  is  imagined  as  a  round  plane, 
encircled  by  the  river  Oceauus.  The  sky  is  the  roof  of  the 
earth,  supported  by  pillars  which  the  giant  Atlas  (supposed 
by  mytliologists  to  represent  the  sen)  supports.      The  only 


/Λ 


regions  with  which  Homer  is  accurately  acquainted   are 
Greece  and  the  northwest  corner  of  Asia  Minor.      The 
generic  name  for  the  Greeks  is  Ach^ans.     They  are  also 
called  Argives,  because  of  the  prominent  part  taken  by 
Ariios  in  the  war;  and  Danai,  another  name  for  Argives, 
because  Danaus,  the  grandson  of  the  sea-god  Poseidon, 
Avas   the   reputed  founder  of   Argos  and  ancestor  of  the 
race.     The  name  '^Achiean  Argos"  includes  the  greater 
part  of    the  Peloponnesus;    while  the  term    ''Pelasgian 
Argos"  indicates  Thessaly.      In  Asia  Minor,  in  addition 
to  the  Troad,  Homer  refers  to  Maeonia,  now  identified  with 
Lydia;    Phrygia,    and  the  islands  of    Tenedos,    Imbros, 
Samothrace,*^  Lesbos,  and   Lemnos.      He  also  refers  to  the 
Egyptian  Thebes,  Phoenicia,  and  Si(ion,  to  the  ^'^Ethi- 
op°es  "  in  the  south,  and  to  the  ''  Pygmies  "  who  dwell  by 
the  banks  of  Oceauus. 

2.  Political  Life,— The  head  of  the  state  is  the  king 
(basileus)  who  rules  by  hereditary  and  divine  right.  The 
king  is  general  in  time  of  war,  supreme  judge,  president 
of  the  co\mcil  of  elders  and  of  the  assembly  of  the  whole 
people,  and,  in  public  sacrifices,  chief  priest.  In  the  Tro- 
jan war,  the  other  kings  forming  the  council  hold  the 
same  relation  to  Agamemnon  that  local  elders  do  to  a 
local  king.  The  Avhole  army  constitutes  the  assembly. 
Its  members,  however,  do  nothing  more  than  assent  to  the 
propositions  debated  by  the  kings.  When  Thersites,  one 
of  the  ''  commons,"  attempts  to  dispute  Avith  Agamemnon, 
he  is  rebuked  and  beaten  by  Ulysses,  to  the  great  amuse- 
ment of  the  army. 

3.  Religion.— The  gods,  among  wdiom  Zeus  is  supreme, 
dwell  "'•  apart "  on  the  top  of  Mount  Olympus  in  Thessaly, 
in  palaces  built  by  Hephaestus,  the  artificer  of  their  order. 
^^The  basis  of  Homeric  religion,"  says  Professor  Jebb, 
''  is  the  feeling  that  '  all  men  have  need  of  the  gods,'  and 
that  the  gods  are  quickly  responsive  to  this  need,  if  they 
are  duly  worshipped."  The  means  of  worship  are  sacri- 
fice and  prayer.     In  Homer,  the  individual  offers  sacrifice 


XXIV 


JNTUODCCTIOX 


directly,  not  through  i)rie«ts.  The  priest  (hiereiis)  is 
known  only  as  the  keeper  of  a  local  shrine,  and  should  be 
distiiiiruished  from  the  soothsayer  (mantis). 

As  Pope  u«e8  both  the  Latin  and  the  Greek  names  of 
the  divinities  accordinsf  to  the  exigencies  of  his  verse,  tlie 
name.^  are  here  presented  in  both  forms: 


Greek. 

Σαι  in. 

Cronus. 

Saturn. 

Zeus. 

Jupiter,  Jove. 

Hades. 

Pluto. 

Poseidon. 

Xeptune. 

Ares 

Mars. 

Hephapstus. 

Vulcan. 

Phoebus- A  polio. 

Apollo, 

Hermes. 

Mercury. 

Dionysus. 

liacchus. 

Hera. 

Juno. 

Pallas- Athene. 

Minerva. 

Aphrodite. 

Venus. 

Artemis. 

Diana. 

4.  Faie.^Closely  connected  with  religious  ideas  is  the 
idea  of  fate,  as  something  which  controls  the  lives  and 
actions  of  men,  and  to  which  even  the  gods  must  bow,  as 
when,  in  Book  xxii.,  Jove  weighs  the  fates  of  Achilles  and 
Hector.  Fate,  under  the  metaphor  of  a  spinner  of  thread, 
is  usually  represented  as  laying  out  a  man's  destiny  at  birth,' 
assigning  to  liim  both  good  and  evil.  The  idea  of  evil! 
however,  is  usually  more  prominent;  often  fjite  stands  for 
the  weaver  of  a  death  doom.  ΊΊ)e  "Three  Fates"  are 
the  product  of  a  later  mythology. 

5.  T/ie  Fawilfj.—'^  The  ties"of  tlie  Janiily,''  savs  Pro- 
fessor Jebb,  *'are  sacred  in  every  relation. —between  hus- 
band and  ivife,  parent  and  chik'l,  kinsman  and  kinsman. 
Polygamy  is  not  found  among  the  Greeks."  Tlie  touch- 
ing picture  of  Hector  and  Andromache  in  the  sixth  book, 
shows  the  position  of  respect  and  lionor  held  by  the  wife 
and  mother  in  the  household. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXV 


6.  Slavery.— Slavery  existed.  It  was  the  doom  of 
prisoners  of  war.  The  slaves  served  in  the  household;  they 
were  not  bound  to  the  soil  (adscripti  glelm).  The  slave 
could  hold  property.  Yet  the  loss  of  manhood  and  respect 
involved  in  slavery  was  generally  recognized. 

7.  A  moral  km.— Themis,  ''custom  established  by 
dooms,"  acts  as  a  restraining  influence  within  recognized 
relationships.  ''In  the  very  groundwork  of  both  the 
'Iliad'  and  the  'Odyssey,'  the  cause  of  Greece  and  the 
cause  of  Odysseus,  which  gain  the  upper  hand,  are  each 
the  cause  of  right,  justice,  and  the  family  order"  (Glad- 
stone). **  Ko  small  proportion  of  writers  in  the  Christian 
period  fail  to  carry  our  instincts  of  approval  and  disap- 
proval to  their  proper  aims  Λvith  the  unfailing  rectitude  of 
Homer"  (Gladstone).  "There  is  no  trace  among  the 
Homeric  Greeks  of  Oriental  vice  or  cruelty  in  its  worst 
forms"  (Jebb).  The  feeling  of  disapproval  that  follows 
the  breaking  of  themis  is  called  aidos,  "sense  of  honor," 
"shame."  Ne^nesis,  "righteous  indignation,"  is  the 
feeling  with  which  a  Homeric  Greek  regarded  a  breach  of 
themil  in  another.  Outside  of  relations  established  by 
custom,  themis  was  not  recognized.  Hence  it  is  that 
'•manners  of  the  noblest  chivalry  and  truest  refinement 
are  strangely  crossed  by  traits  of  coarseness  or  ferocity. 
There  are  moments  when  the  Homeric  hero  is  almost  a 
savage  "  (Jebb).  The  Erinyes,  or  Furies,  are  the  powers 
that  punish  sins  against  the  family,  the  aged,  and  the  poor. 

8.  The  .4r/s.— Hewn  and  polished  stone  is  used  for 
building,  but  statuary  or  figure  sculpture  in  stone  is 
apparently  unknown.  Gold,  silver,  and  bronze  are  used 
for  decorating  armor,  cups,  furniture,  etc. 

9.  />ye56•.— Homer's  man  wears  a  loin  cloth  or  drawers 
{zoma),  a  shirt  or  tunic  {chiton),  under  a  mantle  {chlaina). 
His  woman  wears  a  robe  reaching  to  her  feet,  and  gathered 
at  the  waist  by  a  girdle  {zone).  ''  On  her  head  she  some- 
times wears  a  high,  stiff  coif,  over  the  middle  of  which 
passes  a  many-colored  twisted  band,  while  a  golden  fillet 


i 


XXVl 


INTRODUCTION 


glitters  at  the  front.  Eitlier  from  the  coif,  or  directly 
from  the  crown  of  the  head,  a  veil  falls  over  the  shoulders 
and  back." 

10.  Armor, —A  German  writer,  Dr.  Wolfgang  Keicliel, 
has  recently  shown  that  tlie  views  hitherto  held  with  regard 
to  Homeric  armor  are  erroneous.  The  following  state- 
ment is  summarized  from  the  account  of  Dr.  Keichers 
researches  given  in  Leaf  and  Bayfield's  edition  of  the 
*' Iliad."  The  chief  pieces  of  Homeric  armor  are  the 
shield,  the  greaves,  the  belt,  the  helmet,  the  spear,  and 
the  sword. 

The  shield  {aspis)  was  composed  of  several  layers  of  ox- 
hide of  a  circular  shape,  firmly  stitched  together.      The 
edges  are  drawn  inward  (toward  the  holder)  at  two  points 
a  little  above  the  horizontal  diameter.     Λ  piece  of  Avood 
runs  from  top  to  bottom  of  the  shield,  close  against  the 
leather.      Another  piece  of   wood  is  placed  horizontally 
between  the  two  points  where  tlie  edges  are  drawn  inwards. 
The  middle  part  of  the  latter  serves  as  a  handle.     The 
outer  face  of  the  shield  is  covered  with  metal,  laid  on  in 
concentric  rings  and  highly  ornamented,  as  was  the  shield 
of  Achilles.      Studs  of   metal  {omphaloi)   were   disposed 
round  the  circumference.      The  shield  was  suspended  by 
a  broad  baldrick  of  leather,  which  passed  under  the  righ't 
arm  and  rested  on  the  left  shoTilder.     AVhen  hanging  from 
the  shoulder  in  front,  it  readied  from  the  neck  to  the  mid- 
dle of  the  shin.      ''It  was  the  great  weight  of  the  shield 
that  led  to  the  use  of  the  war-chariot,  which,  as  the  poems 
show,  the  warriors  did  not  employ  to  fight  from,  but  as  a 
means  of  rapid  transport  from  one  part  of  the  field  to 
another."     Shields  were  also  made  in  rectangular  or  half- 
cylinder  form. 

The  greaves  {hiemides)  were  gaiters  of  leather  or  soft 
metal  like  tin.  They  went  all  around  the  leg  and  were 
tied  with  strings  at  the  knee.  They  were  Λνοπι  not  as  a 
protection  against  the  foe,  but  to  prevent  the  cliafing  of 
the  legs  by  the  edge  of  the  shield. 


•-^..1 


INTRODUCTION 


xxvii 


The  thorex  has  been  generally  regarded  as  a  corselet  or 
breast-plate  of  metal,  composed  of  two  pieces,  one  for  the 
back  and  one  for  the  breast.  Reichel  regards  it  as  simply 
a  generic  term  for  armor.  This  interpretation  is,  however, 
very  doubtful.  The  breast-plate  was  an  important  part 
of  Greek  armor  in  historic  times. 

The  belt  (mitre)  was  a  band  of  metal  worn  round  the 
waist,  broad  in  front,  and  tapering  toward  the  extremi- 
ties, which  were  attached  behind  the  back.  The  helmet 
(Korus)  was  constructed  of  leather  overlaid  with  metal. 
It  was  secured  by  a  strap  under  the  chin.  It  was  sur- 
mounted at  the  top  by  a  plume,  but  had  no  metal ''  crest " 
like  the  later  Greek  helmet,  nor  had  it  either  visor  or 
cheek  pieces. 

Archers  wore,  instead  of  a  shield,  the  complete  skin  of  an 
animal  dressed  with  the  hair.  The  head  of  the  skin  was 
fastened  over  the  left  shoulder.  As  archers  did  not  carry 
shields,  they  did  not  wear  greaves. 

The  spear  was  the  chief  offensive  weapon.  It  was 
hurled  from  the  hand  like  the  javelin  of  later  times. 

The  swords  (xipltos)  found  at  Mycenae  are  about  three 
feet  long,  broad  at  the  hilt,  double-edged,  and  tapering  to 
a  sharp  point.  They  appear  to  have  been  used  for  the 
thrust  rather  than  the  stroke.  They  are  often  decorated 
with  pictures  of  running  animals. 

The  war-chariot  (harma)  contained  space  for  two,  the 
driver  and  the  warrior.  It  had  a  curved  rim  in  front  and 
at  the  sides,  was  entered  from  behind,  and  was  drawn 
generally  by  two  horses,  sometimes  by  three. 

III.  Alexander  Pope:   His  Life,  his  Age,  and 

HIS  Work. 

It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  in  reading  Pope's 
translation  of  the  *'Iliad,"  the  student's  interest  will,  at 
the  outset,  be  absorbed  by  Homer's  fascinating  story.  By 
and   by  it   will   i)robably  extend    to  Homer  himself,  the 


! 


ir;<iL,MJiaAa.v,;;jj.jm«ai».i.j...-•  >■■-■«  jl•- ... 


I 

f 


hi 


xxvm 


INTRODUCTION 


Story-teller.     Finally,  it  may  widen  so  as  to  include  Pope, 
the  interpreter  between  the  reader  and  the  great  Greek 
whose  language  (we  will  assume)  he  does  not  understand. 
He  must  be  cautioned  not  to  slight  Pope,  and  be  helped  to 
appreciate  at  their  high  worth  the  services  of  an  inter- 
preter who  sought  by  the  most  careful  art  to  communicate, 
not  merely  the  sense  of  the  Greek  poet's  words,  but  some- 
thing of  their  power  and  grace.     Let  him  realize  the  fact 
that   this  work  of   interpretation  has  been   done   by  an 
acknowledged  master  of  English  speech,   himself  one  of 
the  first  of  poets  ;    and  that  it  has  independent  value  as 
an  English  classic.     All  great  translations,  the  Bible,  Dry- 
den's  *'  Mrgil,"  Browning's  **  Euripides,"  have  this  twofold 
significance.      They  belong   to   two  literatures:  they  are 
nioniiments  both  of  the  genius  of  the  original  Avriter  and 
his  times,  and  of  the  genius  of  the  translator  and  his  lit- 
erary epoch.     Having  treated  in  the  preceding  sections  of 
Homer  and  his  work,  we  have  now  to  consider  Pope  and 
his.     We  may  then  be  able  to  recognize  and  account  for 
the  special  merits  and   shortcomings   of  his   translation, 
and  to  see  the  relation  which  it  bears  to  his  other  work. 

If  the  student,  after  reading  carefully  tlie  work  of  Pope 
here  given,  will  dip  into  the  most  famous  of  his  original 
poems,  he  will  probably  be  struck  at  once  by  tlie  fact  that 
they  are  all  cast  in  the  same  form,  and  have  most  obvious 
uniformities  of  style.  They  are  all  written  in  the  ten-syl- 
lable couplet;  and  they  exhibit  the  same  clear,  terse,  spir- 
ited, epigrammatic  manner.  These  similarities  will  serve 
to  explain  the  basis  of  Pope's  reputation  as  a  writer,  and 
the  place  which  he  holds  in  the  history  of  English  literature. 
He  is  regarded  as  the  greatest  master  of  this  special  style 
of  his  in  the  heroic  couplet,  and,  on  this  account,  as  the 
representative  poet  of  the  literary  epoch  to  which  he 
belongs—an  epoch  of  effort  to  attain  those  qualities  of 
clearness,  finish,  and  liveliness  in  wliich  his  best  work  is 
unrivalled.     Let  us  try  to  understand  how  and  why  this 

is  60. 


ί 


INTRODUCTION 


XXIX 


The  quiet  age  of  Pope  succeeded  the  agitated  age  of 
Shakspere  and  Milton,  of  Bacon  and  Sir  Thomas  Browne; 
and  it  was  in  reaction  against  the  exuberant  spirit  of  that 
age.  If  we  turn  from  the  works  of  the  earlier  to  those  of 
the  later  period,  we  shall  be  conscious  at  once  of  a  great 
change  of  atmosphere,  of  literary  tone.  It  is  as  if  we  had 
passed  from  a  company  of  mercurial,  impressionable  fel- 
lows, easily  moved  to  tears  or  laughter,  full  of  a  deep  sense 
of  the  dramatic  changes  and  issues  of  life, — its  terrible 
tragedy,  its  exquisite  pathos,  its  humorous  follies;  had 
passed  from  these  to  a  circle  of  clever  but  rather  cold- 
blooded and  cynically-disposed  gentlemen,  whom  the  spec- 
tacle of  life  thrills  with  no  such  impassioned  feelings,  but 
is  a  source  of  mild  interest  and  amusement.  What  a  cool- 
ing off  of  the  heats  of  passion  there  has  been !  What  studied 
conventionalities  of  manner  have  come  into  vogue!  We 
miss  in  the  work  of  these  men  of  the  later  time  the  imagi- 
native power,  the  quick-pulsing  feeling,  the  lyrical  sweet- 
ness and  tenderness,  the  penetrating  insight  of  their  fore- 
runners of  the  great  Elizabethan  era.  Do  we  find  nothing 
new  to  admire?  Surely  we  do.  We  feel  a  certain  charm 
in  the  easy,  composed  manners  of  these  more  decorous 
and  formal  gentlemen.  We  are  entertained  by  the  skilful 
parry  and  thrust  of  their  Avit, — coarse,  very  coarse,  and 
even  cynically  brutal  at  times,  to  be  sure;  but  more  often 
incisive  and  entertaining.  We  are  instructed  by  the  stud- 
ied felicities  of  their  speech;  the  pointed  phrase,  the 
compact  epigram,  the  clear,  clinching  sentences.  The 
broken,  involved,  and  turgid  utterances  of  the  men  of 
passion  and  imagination  have  given  way  to  the  precise, 
brief,  uninvolved  periods  of  the  men  of  sober  sense  and 
ingenious  fancy. 

Pope,  more  than  any  other  writer,  represents  this  reac- 
tion of  a  rather  prim  formalism  against  the  inspired 
informalism  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  He  sums  up,  as  no 
one  else  does,  the  losses  and  the  gains  of  the  change.  He 
brings  into  clear  relief  the  special  importance  and  the  dis- 


aiuitia 


I 


XXX 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXI 


y 


tinctive  acliievement  of  the  Restoration  period;  a  period 
devoted  to  the  study  of  literary  form;  a  period  in  which 
Englislirnen  learned  for  the  first  time  how  to  write  lucid 
})rose;  a  period  in  which  even  poetry,  depressed  by  the 
prosaic  tendencies  of  the  age,  lent  itself  to  this  task  of 
teaching  men  how  to  express  themselves  with  clearness, 
precision,  orderliness,  and  effect. 

Roughly  speaking,  this  period  covered  about  a  century — 
the  century  that  gives  us  Addison,  Steele,  Defoe,  Swift, 
Johnson,  Goldsmith,  the  earliest  masters  of  a  well-wrought 
prose  style.      It  was  ushered  in  by  Dryden  (1G31-1700), 
who  mediates  between  the  age  of  Milton  (1608-1674)  and 
that  of  Pope  (1688-1744).      In  the  work  of  Dryden,  espe- 
cially iu  his  classical  essays  on  the  drama,  the  restrained 
analytical  spirit  of  the  new  critical  epoch  was  apparent;  and 
his  own  prose,  cured  of  the  extravagances  and  the  strag- 
gling looseness  of  the  prose  of  Milton's  time,  was  its  first 
notable  product     In  the  growth  of  the  analytical  spirit,' 
the  new  regard  for  form,  the  new  search  for  the  laws  of 
literary  structure,   the  influence  of  France   counted  for 
much.     The  great  French  writers  of  the  time  had  been  the 
pioneers  in  the  territory  of  a  new  criticism  based  on  an 
enthusiastic  study  of  the  ancients,     Bossuet,  Fenelon,  and 
Pascal,  Corneille,  Moliere,  Racine,  and  other  distinguished 
\vriters  whom  Louis  Xl\ .  had  gathered  about  him  at  the 
French  court,  were  much  read  and  admired.     The  great 
poet  and   critic    Boileau   became    a    sort  of   lawgiver  to 
English  writers.     His  "  Art  of  Poetry  "  (1673)  was  repro- 
duced in  an  English  translation  that  was  revised  by  Dry- 
den, and  it  was  the  basis  of   Pope's  famous  * 'Essay  on 
Criticism."    Dryden,  who  in  his  later  years  showed  great 
sensitiveness  to  these  Gallic  influences,  was,  it  should  be 
remembered,  Pope's  master,  and  transmitted  the  new  ten- 
dencies to  Pope. 

Literature  reflects  life;  and  we  have  been  taught  by  one 
powerful  school  of  modern  critics  to  seek  explanation  of 
the  varying  phases  of  literary  and  artistic  development  in 


β 


'<Λ 


the  social  and  political  changes  of  the  centuries.  In  the 
case  of  Pope  it  is  certainly  true  that  there  is  a  very  close 
connection  between  litei-ature  and  life,  and  that  much  of 
what  he  wrote  is  explicable  only  in  tlie  light  of  the  history 
of  his  times.  Not  only  the  spirit  of  his  age,  but  its  events 
and  personages,  are  reflected  in  his  pages.  So  personal 
and  contemporary  in  its  allusions  is  much  of  his  best  work 
that,  as  ^Ir.  Leslie  Stephen  says,  "fully  to  elucidate  his 
poems,  a  commentator  requires  to  have  at  his  fingers'  ends 
the  whole  chronique  scandaJeuse  of  the  day."  This  is  un- 
fortunate, so  far  as  the  young  student  of  Pope's  work  and 
influence  is  concerned.  The  chronicles  of  scandal  are  not 
edifying  reading;  and  the  voluminous  records  of  Pope's 
time  are  a  most  unsavory  and  unwholesome  diet.  However, 
Mr.  Stephen's  statement  is  perhaps  a  little  misleading,  a 
little  too  sweeping.  There  is  a  good  body  of  Pope's  work 
that  may  be  enjoyed  without  delving  very  deep  into  this 
malarious  soil  of  scandal.  The  translations,  of  course, 
the  ''  Essay  on  Criticism,"  the  ''  Moral  Essays,"  even  the 
**  Rape  of  the  Lock,"  are  free  from  the  infection.  Unfor- 
tunately, however.  Pope's  maturest,  strongest,  most  indi- 
vidual work, — the  ''Satires,"  and  the  "Dunciad," — in 
fact,  all  those  pieces  in  which  the  age,  its  personages,  and 
its  manners  are  brought  vividly  before  us, — is  the  work  to 
which  Mr.  Stephen's  remarks  apply.  The  more  the  spirit 
of  the  age  finds  expression  in  Pope's  work,  tlie  less  admi- 
rable is  it  as  regards  its  substance;  for  the  spirit  of  the  age 
was  one  of  intrigue,  jealousy,  slander,  and  bitter  abuse. 
It  was  an  age  stirred  by  no  great  issues,  conscious  of  no' 
great  tasks.  The  heroic  temper  was  for  the  time  dead; 
men's  aims  and  interests  were  petty  and  trivial.  The 
leaders  of  men  were  little  better  than  political  gamesters, 
and  they  laid  hands  upon  literature  to  serve  their  ends. 
Hence  it  came  that  the  Avriters,  bribed  by  political  patron- 
age, shared  the  partisan  spirit,  and  Avere  divided  into  two 
envious  camps  of  Whigs  and  Tories.  Only  a  few  of  the 
greater  writers — and,   happily,  Pope  was  among  them — 


Mite'aJ  *  -fi^  .jjf,iA^^S*,f^i3!>fi^f  ifav  >«•  *■    t ,.  %■  -^j.  'A^n/vh^x'  .-τ. 


XXXil 


INTRODUCTION 


retained  their  integrity  and  independence,  and  rose  above 
the  strife  and  plotting  of  factions. 

With  no  momentous  questions  to  decide,  the  people  set- 
tled down  to  an  easy-going  life  of  pleasure,  and  beguiled  the 
idle  time  with  endless  gossip  and  scandal.  Country  life 
was  voted  tiresome;  and  those  who  could  do  so,  flocked 
to  the  towns  for  excitement.  In  London  the  fashionable 
dabbled  in  literature;  and  the  wits  and  beaux  either 
amused  themselves  with  the  clever  talkers  and  scribes  at 
the  coffee-houses  and  clubs,  or  enjoyed  the  fripperies  and 
follies  of  the  Mall,  where  fashion  disported  itself. 

Superior  as  Pope  was  in  many  respects  to  the  average  lit- 
erary man  of  liis  time,  the  taint  of  the  age  is  upon  him.  In 
trutli,  there  is  very  little  in  his  character  or  personal  his- 
tory that  is  lovable  and  engaging.  He  shows  some  noble 
traits  which  mitigate  the  severity  of  the  judgment  that 
has  to  be  passed  upon  him  on  the  score  of  the  numerous 
contemptible  acts  of  which  he  was  guilty;  but  despite  these 
good  qualities,  his  life  was  unlovely  and  his  personality 
unattractive—even  repellent.  The  curse  of  his  disposi- 
tion was  vanity,  with  its  accompanying  vices,  pride  and 
jealousy;  and  it  led  him  to  bend  at  times  to  acts  of  incred- 
ible meanness  and  dece])tion.  It  made  him  ridiculously 
sensitive  to  and  resentful  of  criticism,  and  foolishly  cov- 
etous of  praise  and  flattery.  He  could  be  savagely  mali- 
cious toward  liis  enemies,  and  occasionally  he  sacrificed  his 
friends  to  this  all-consuming  passion. 

The  basis  of  his  irritability  was  physical.  He  was  dis- 
eased ;  sickly  as  a  child,  and  weak  and  deformed  through- 
out his  life,— *' this  long  disease,  my  life,"  as  he  pathet- 
ically speaks  of  it  in  the  autobiographical  epistle  to 
Arbuthnot.  He  became,  in  consequence,  the  butt  of  wits 
whom  he  had  offended;  for  example,  waspish  old  John 
Dennis,  the  critic,  w^ho,  unsparing  of  the  coarse  and  copi- 
ous invective  of  the  time,  did  not  hesitate  to  make  scornful 
reference  to  his  '*  contemptible  person"  as  that  of  "a 
downright  monkey."     Smarting  under  such  indignities. 


INTRODUCTION 


ΧΣΧ111 


I 


Pope  deigned  to  strike  back  with  similar  weapons  of 
abuse.  This  is  all  very  deplorable  ;  and  little  is  to  be 
gained  by  dwelling  upon  such  failings.  We  will  turn 
then  from  Pope,  the  vain,  scheming,  unscrupulous  man, 
to  Pope  the  writer,  single-minded  in  his  pursuit  of  literary 

excellence. 

'^No  man,"  says  Mr.  Stephen,  ''ever  displayed  a  more 
exclusive  devotion  to  literature,  or  was  more  tremblingly 
sensitive  to  the  charm  of  literary  glory.      His  zeal  was 
never  distracted  by  any  rival  emotion.     Almost  from  his 
cradle  to  his  grave  his  eye  was  fixed  unremittingly  upon 
the  sole  purpose  of  his  life."      This  dominating  ambition 
led  him  to  fight  a  brave,  life-long  battle  against  his  inher- 
ited weakness  and  other   disadvantages  (notably  that   of 
being  a  Catholic)  which  handicapped  him  from  the  outset. 
The  boy  was  only  twelve  years  old  when,  after  a  desultory 
education,  he  left  school  to  settle  down  with  his  parents 
in  their  quiet  country  home  at  Binfield,  near  Windsor. 
Already  he  had  virtually  decided  upon  a  literary  career; 
and,  forming  a  plan  of  study,  he  began  at  once  to  serve  a 
laborious  apprenticeship  in  the  craft  of  letters.      He  read 
unceasingly,  to  the  further  injuring  of  his  health,  and  he 
wrote  very  much  by  way  of  practice.      Never  did  a  youth 
set  himself  more  deliberately  to  work  to  acquire  the  art  of 
writing,  and  to  give  effect  to  the  conviction  that  one  may 
prepare  oneself  for  tlie  difficult  vocation  of  the  writer,  as 
for  any  other  professional  calling,  by  hard  work.     We  are 
reminded  of  the  young  Milton,  with  his  priest-like  dedica- 
tion of  himself  to  a  similar  calling;  and  of  young  Keats, 
early  engaged  in  the  strenuous  service  of  the  Muses.     But 
perhapslilie  best  parallel  is  one  drawn  from  our  own  times; 
the  instance  of  Robert   Louis  Stevenson,   who,  as  a  boy, 
was  stirred  by  a  like  ambition,  and  strove  in  the  same  delib- 
erate way  to  become  a  master  of  speech.     Stevenson's  con- 
fession is  worth  quoting  for  the  light  it  throws  on  a  tem- 
perament and   an  ambition   such   as   Pope's.       "  I    had 
vowed,"  he  says,  when  reviewing  his  boyish  aspirations, 


XXXIV 


INTRODUCTION 


that  I  -would  learn  to  write.     That  was  a  proficiency 
hat  tempted  me;  and  I  practised  to  acquire  it,  as  men 
learn  to  whittle,  in  a  wager  with  myself.     .     .     .     Wlien- 
ever  I  read  a  book  or  a  passage  that  particularly  pleased 
me,     .     .     .     II,  which  theie  was  either  some  conspicuous 
force  or  some  happy  distinction  in  the  style,  I  must  sit 
down  at  once  and  set  myself  to  ape  that  quality.     I  was 
unsuccessful,  and  I  knew  it;  and  tried  again,  and  was  again 
unsuccessful,    and   always   unsuccessful;    but  at   least  in 
these  vain  bouts  I  got  some  practice  in  rhvthm.  in  har- 
mony, in  construction,  in  the  coordination  of  parts, 
rhat,  like  It  or  not,  is  the  way  to  learn  to  write."     Yes" 
in  that  way  Pope  learned.     He  imitated  his  favorite  poetsi 
he  tried  all  styles,  and  handled  the  most  varied  subjects. 
Before  he  was  fifteen  he  had  composed  an  epic  in  which 
he  endeavored  to  reproduce  in  different  parts  the  beauties 
of  f^ryden,  Milton,  Cowley,  and  Spenser;  of  Homer,  Virgil 
Ovid,  and  other  admired  masters.     Moreover,  he  sought  to 
improve  himself  hy  translating  freely  from  the  andents, 
particularly  from  the  Latin  poets,  those  passages   which 
struck  his  fancy.     At  the  same  time  he  sought  to  cultivate 
the  critical  instinct,  and  studied  diligently  the  critical  lit- 
erature of  the  time,  especially  the  great  French  writers 
commended  by  his  master,  Dryden. 

The  early  efforts  of  the  young  writer  met  with  much 
encouragement  from  some  gentlemen  of  taste  whom  he 
came  to  know      IIis  career  as  an  author  may  be  said  to  date 
from  the  publication  iu  1709  of   his  "Pastorals,"  which 
Jie  wrote,   as  he  was  most  anxious  to  impress  upon  his 
readers,  when  only  sixteen  years  old.     They  are  imitative, 
and  highly  affected  and  artificial.      In  sjnte  of  the  fact 
that  the  boyish  author  had  lived  in  the  country,  there  was 
no  breath  of  country  air  in  the  pages.     They  were  mechan- 
ical   reproductions  of   the    ancients,    and    repeopled   the 
glades  of  η  indsor  and  the  banks  of  Thames  with  all  the 
dead  rout  of  sylvan  go<ls  and  goddesses,  nymphs,  dryads, 
and  their  kind.     The  lines  were,  however,  promising  by 


III 


INTRODUCTION 


xxxv 


reason  of  their  facile  and  yet  careful  art.  'J'hey  were 
"  correct;  "  and  in  an  age  which  aimed  at  correctness,  this 
Avas  an  important  virtue.  So  thought  one  of  his  admir- 
ers, a  country  gentleman  and  writer,  William  Walsh,  who 
had  been  spoken  of  by  Dryden  as  the  best  critic  of  his 
time.  Walsh  gave  to  Pope  a  piece  of  advice  which  com- 
mended itself  to  the  young  writer  because  it  accorded  so 
well  with  his  own  instincts  and  tendencies.  Walsh  bade 
him  aim  at  correctness;  there  had,  he  said,  been  great 
poets,  but  never  a  great  poet  that  had  been  correct. 
Henceforth  Pope  heeded  this  counsel  of  perfection,  and 
often  heeded  it  a  little  too  well.  Like  those  persons  >vho 
are  extremely  anxious  to  observe  the  proprieties  in  their 
manners,  his  besetting  danger  was  to  become  stilted,  stiff, 
lacking  in  spontaneous  grace. 

Pope's  first  important  work,  the  ''  Essay  on  Criticism," 
was  clearly  indicative  of  his  aims  and  his  point  of  view 
both  as  poet  and  as  critic.  It  was  a  statement  of  his  literary 
creed;  and  it  found  instant  acceptance  by  the  cultivated 
people  of  the  time  because  it  formulated  theirs  with  that 
happy  ])recision  and  clear,  epigrammatic  force  which  they 
especially  admired.  Owing  much  to  Boileau's  "Art  of 
Poetry,"  and  epitomizing  the  best  critical  opinion  of  the 
epoch,  it  was  not  original  in  any  way.    It  aimed  to  set  forth 

**  What  oft  was  thought,  but  ne'er  so  well  expressed." 

It  made  appeal  to  nature  and  to  the  past;  to  tradition  and 
rule,  to  classic  models  and  standards.  First  follow  nature, 
counsels  the  poet: 

"  First  follow  nature,  and  your  judgment  frame 
By  her  just  standard,  which  is  still  the  same." 

But,  as  if  at  once  to  confuse  the  issue,  nature  is  identified 
with  tradition: 

"  Those  rules,  of  old  discovered,  not  devised, 
Are  nature  still,  but  nature  methodized  ;  " 


aUf.rJe-Jfg.itt.Ut.-.<ma  .-. ».  inA^-Ai.  ..  .^^■-•-.4: 


XXXVl 


JNTRODUCTION 


I 


and   he  adds,   alludiii 
Aristotle: 


(T 


tu   the  great  critic  of  antiquity. 


"Nature  and  Homer  were,  he  found,  the  same." 

These  lines  are  significant  as  showing  the  kind  of  impor- 
tance attached  to  Homer  by  Pope  and  liis  contemporaries; 
and  tliey  serve  to  explain  why,  a  little  later,  Pope  under- 
took his  great  labor  of  translation. 

Tlie  "  Essay  on  Criticism  "  was  followed  by  the  ''  Rape 
of  the   Luck^'  (1712-1714),    'MVindsor  Forest '^   (1713) 
the  '•  Temple  of  Fame  "  (1715),  the  ^•  Elegy  to  the  Mem- 
ory of   an  Unfortunate  Lady^'  (1717),  -  Eloisa   to  Abe^ 
lard"  (1717).      These  poems    show    the  rapid    ripening 
of  Pope's  powers,  and  in  their  best  parts  evince  a  glow  of 
feeling  which  we  do  not  find  again  in  liis  work.     One  of 
them,  the  -  Rape  of  tlie  Lock,"  is  of  peculiar  excellence. 
It  was  an  attempt  to  make  fun  of  an  incident  in  high  life 
that  threatened  to  bring  about  a  family  broil.      A   certain 
bold  nobleman  had  impertinently  cut  off   a  lock  of  hair 
from  a  lady  whom  lie  admired.     This  impudent  theft  was 
resented,  and  serious  consecpieuces  seemed  likely  to  follow, 
when  Pope  was  begged  to  play  the  part  of  peace-maker  by 
turning  the  affair  into  ridicule.      He  responded,  and  pro- 
duced,   with   happy  effect,    the  daintiest  of    mock-heroic 
poems.     It  has  no  rival  in  the  language;  it  is  one  of  the 
moat  ingenious,  fanciful,  witty,  and  airy  of  poems. 

Pope  had  now  won  a  series  of  brilliant  successes,  and  had 
become  one  of  the  foremost  writers  of  his  time.  He  had 
made  many  powerful  friends;  among  them  Swift,  who  did 
what  he  could  to  advance  the  young  writer  whom  he  so 
greatly  admired.  Pope  had  decided  to  transhate  Homer, 
and,  following  a  rather  common  practice  of  the  i)eriod,  to 
issue  the  translation  by  subscription.  Swift  was  most  ener- 
getic in  urging  people  to  subscribe  for  it,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  a  great  sale  was  assured.  Tlie  *'  Iliad  "  was 
issued  in  six  volumes,  at  a  guinea  a  volume  ;  the  first  vol- 
ume aj)peared  ill  1715,  tlie  last  in   1720.     The  splendid 


INTRODUCTION 


xxxvii 


f! 


reception  it  met  with  encouraged  Pope  to  undertake  a  ver- 
sion of  the  "Odyssey,"  which  he  made  with  the  poorly 
paid  assistance  of  two  needy  scholars,  who  did  most  of  the 
work.  It  has  been  calculated  that  these  translations  to- 
gether brought  Pope  about  £9,000;  a  handsomer  reward 
than  any  English  poet  had  ever  earned. 

This  pecuniary  success  enabled  Pope  to  gratify  his  wish 
to  live  nearer  London;  so  in  1710  the  Binfield  property 
was  sold,  and  tlie  family  removed  to  Chiswick,  on  the 
Thames;  and  two  years  later,  on  the  death  of  his  father. 
Pope  went  a  little  farther  up  the  river,  to  Twickenham,  to 
occupy  a  house  and  property  which  he  purchased.  Here 
he  lived  until  his  death,  in  the  villa  with  which  his  mem- 
ory is  generally  associated. 

He  continued  to  work  as  assiduously  as  ever.  He  turned 
every  minute  to  account,  often  rising  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  to  jot  down  a  happy  thought.  Nothing  could  con- 
qu'er  his  indomitable  spirit,  housed  though  it  was  in  so  frail 
and  shattered  a  body.  After  completing  the  translations 
of  Homer,  he  published  the  "  Dunciad  "  (1728),  a  work 
which  was  the  outcome  of  a  scheme  formed  by  him  and  his 
friends  to  scourge  the  dunces  and  pedants  of  his  time. 
The  group  of  friends,  which  included  the  great  Swift,  the 
poets  Gay  and  Parnell,  Atterbury,  a  scholar  of  taste,  and 
Arbuthnot,  a  learned  and  accomplished  physician,  consti- 
tuted an  informal  club,  which  they  called  the  Scriblerus 
Club,  because  they  were  togetlier  to  compile  the  memoirs 
and  works  of  Martinus  Scriblerus,  ''an  imaginary  pedant 
—a  precursor  and  relative  of  Dr.  Dryasdust,"— in  which 
they  were  to  satirize  stupidity  in  the  guise  of  learning. 
Nothing  of  importance  resulted  from  their  combined 
efforts;  and  later  on  Pope  himself  carried  out  the  idea 
in  the  **  Dunciad." 

The  poem  shows  Swift's  influence,  and  reflects  not  a 
little  of  his  splenetic,  derisive?^,  abusive  temper.  Pope 
lashes  not  only  the  great  without  mercy,  but  stoops  in  his 
onslaughts  to  the  smallest  pedlars  of  literary  wares.     De- 


taSj*  j&asi.g».M.iai<Ljfai..!ttiW^.  >.:ί.ί»>«ίι..^ .  ■»>.;■■■ --i  - :...  >....^...»  ■  ,;,jtiai||]„•  iiiiiamitiniiiniifiii ,  itmnimn 


XXXVlll 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXI X 


spite  Its  fierceness,  its  cruel  spite,  and  its  coarseness,  it  has 
a  vigor  and  power  whicli  are  not  eqiiallud  elsewhere  in 
1  ope  s  writings.  It  brought  him  into  much  trouble•  for 
many  of  the  persons  attacked  retaliated,  and  covered'him 
with  abuse  and  ridicule  as  coarse  and  unscrupulous  as  his 
own. 

Whereas  the  ^'Dunciad  "  reflects  Swift's  influence  upon 
Fope,  in  the  works  which  followed,  the  "Moral  Essays" 
(1731-1735),    including    the     world-famous    ''Essay    on 
Man  "  the  paramount  influence  is  that  of  the  philosopher 
Lord  Bolingbroke.      Bolingbroke  was  a  discredited  politi- 
cian, who,  on  his  return  from  exile,  devoted  his  energies  to 
philosophy,  and  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  admiration  of 
lope       His   ideas   proved   very  attractive  to  Pope,  who 
wished  to  gain  a  reputation  as  a  great  moralist  and  teacher 
and  he  set  about  giving  expression  to  them  in  verse      He 
was  himself  no  thinker,  no  philosopher;  at  least  he  could 
not  think  connectedly  and  continuously.     He  thoui^ht  in 
flashes;  and  his  -  Essay  on  Man  "  is  not  a  sustained  ar^u- 
ment,  but  rather  a  series  of  detached  reflections  and  apho- 
risms.    They  are  borrowed  from  many  sources,  and  most 
of  them  had  filtered  down  to  him  by  way  of  Bolingbroke. 
Pope  IS  simply  finding  for  them  that  condensed,  lucid 
trenchant  expression  which  might  give  them  their  highest 
value,     i he  sentences  are  clear-cut,  and  delicately  polished 
to  the  utmost  of  literary  power.     Whether  or  no  his  theme 
IS  one  fit  for  poet's  pen,  what  a  lesson  to  the  philosopher  is 
the  poem  in  propriety  of  epithet,  in  economy  of  words   in 
ease  and  grace!     The  poet  is  indeed   parsimonious   to  a 
fault  sometimes,  as  in  the  elliptical  lines: 

"  Then  say  not  man's  imperfect,  Ileav'n  in  fault  ; 
Say  rather,  man's  as  perfect  as  he  ought : 
His  knowledge  measurM  to  liis  state  and  place  ; 
His  time  a  moment,  and  a  point  his  space. 
If  to  be  perfect  in  a  certain  sphere, 
What  matter,  soon  or  late,  or  here  or  there  ? 
The  blest  to-day  is  as  completely  so. 
As  who  began  a  thousand  years  η «'■o  " 

•  ins    '* 


But  this  almost  miserly  thrift  of  words  was  a  fault  on  the 
right  side,  and  may  be  pardoned.  And  then,  how  numerous 
are  the  quotable  passages  that  are  simply  perfect  in  their 
kind!  As  one  scans  the  text  the  eye  is  caught  again  and 
again  by  felicitous  and  picturesque  lines: 

'*  In  Folly's  cup  still  laughs  the  bubble,  Joy," 

and  others  equally  striking,  which  explain  the  hold  this 
poem  still  retains  upon  the  public.  Its  reasoning  is  often 
false  and  contradictory;  it  is  wanting  in  the  power  and  in- 
evitable grace  of  the  higher  poetry;  it  addresses  itself  to 
the  intellect  and  the  fancy  rather  than  to  the  imaofinative 
reason ;  and  yet  it  charms  and  interests,  and  keeps  its  place 
in  public  favor. 

In  the  "  Moral  Essays"  and  in  the  ''  Satires  and  Epis- 
tles "  (1735-1738)  Pope  has  brought  his  manner  to  its  high- 
est efficiency.  His  touch  is  now  the  touch  of  the  confident 
master-craftsman,  who  knows  exactly  what  he  is  going  to  do, 
and  the  best  way  in  which  it  may  be  done.  Every  stroke 
counts;  is  now  fine  and  subtle,  now  bold  and  broad,  as  the 
end  in  view  requires.  And  this  is  the  outcome  of  that 
lifelong  pursuit  of  correctness;  of  that  infinite  painstaking 
industry,  that  unremitting  *'labor  of  the  file."  AVhat 
lover  of  work  that  in  its  kind  is  almost  flawless,  can  reiiai-d 
it  without  admiration  ?  It  may  not  be,  it  certainly  is  not, 
of  the  highest  kind;  it  may  fail,  as  it  surely  does,  to  lift 
and  dilate  the  soul  as  does  tlie  work  of  the  greatest  artists 
and  seers — Shakspere  or  Milton,  Chaucer  or  Spenser, 
AVordsworth  or  Byron,  Shelley  or  Tennyson;  but  in  its 
own  way  it  is  unsurpassed. 

When  Pope  finished  his  last  satire,  in  1738,  his  health 
was  rapidly  giving  way.  During  the  six  years  that  followed, 
he  produced  only  another  book  of  the  "  Dunciad."  When 
at  last  the  ''  slow  pursuer,"  who  seemed  to  have  been  dog- 
ging his  footsteps  through  a  life  of  sickness,  overtook  him, 
he  was  found  serene  and  cheerful.     Although  he  had  made 


SjflSef-'• 


■ 

IT 


Xl 


INTRODUCTION 


SO  many  enemies,  devoted  friends  were  not  wanting  in  Lis 
last  days.  They  tended  liim  with  affectionate  care,  and 
he  became  even  jocnhir  in  their  presence.  '*  Hero  I  am," 
he  said,  when  the  doctor  had  made  an  encouraging  report 
upun  his  condition,  '*  here  I  am,  dying  of  a  hiimlred  good 
symptoms."  After  receiving  the  hist  sacraments  of  the 
Church  to  wliich  he  had  remained  loyal,  he  died  resignedly 
and  peacefully  on  May  30,  1744. 

The  man   Pope,  when   we  know  the  details  of  his  life 
and  character,  awakens  very  mixed  feelings  in  us;  feelings 
that  waver  between  disgust  and  pity,  contempt  and  re- 
spect.    On  the  whole,  we  are  not  tempted  to  linger  in  his 
presence,  unless  we  meet  him  in  his  workshop  about  his 
business.      There  we  may  watch  the  industrious,  careful 
workman   with    the   greatest    profit.      There    the  young 
apprentice  in  the  craft  of  writing  may  \vell  spend  much 
time  in  studying  the  ways  of  a  master.      It   may  seem 
paradoxical  to  say  that  Pope's  chief  service  as  a  poet  was 
that  he  tauglit  men  to  write   good  prose;  and   yet   that 
expresses  the  truth.     He  will  not  help  much  the  making 
of  great  poets;  but  he  will  help  to  form  efficient  writers, 
experts,  tliat  is,  in  the  difficult  art  of   managing  words. 
The  young  practitioner  who  is  striving  after  the  propriety 
and  precision  which  his  text-books  of  rhetoric  insist  upon, 
cannot  do  better  than  study  his  Pope  long  and  well.      He 
may  begin  with  the  translation  of  Homer,  and  then  pass  on 
to  the  '-Rape  of  the  Lock,"  the  ^•  Essay  on  Man,"  the 
*'Epistle  to  Arbuthnot."     Thus  he  may  learn,  if  he  will, 
what  it  is  to  be  correct  without  being  tiresome;  to  be  sen- 
sible without  being  dull  and  trite;  to  be  fanciful  and  sug- 
gestive without  being  whimsical  and  extravagant.     He  may 
fail  of  brilliancy  and  wit  in  hie   expression;  but  he  may 
well  have  learned  how  to  lend  to  the  commonplace  an  air  of 
novelty  and  interest,  and  to  give  to  what  thoughts  he  has, 
be  they  new  or  old,  good  or  poor,  the  charms  of   happy 
conciseness,  ease,  and  elegance. 


INTRODUCTION  xli 


IV.  Pope's  Homer. 

There  have  been  many  noteworthy  attempts  to  translate 
Homer  into  English  verse,  five  of  which  have  been  made 
by  poets  of    high  rank,  and  may  be  said  to  be  of  perma- 
nent worth.     These  five  are  (1)  that  of  the  Elizabethan 
poet  and  dramatist,  George  Chapman,  Shakspere's  con- 
temporary (published,  seven  books,  in  1598;  the      Ihad 
entire  in  1610-11);  (2)  Pope's  version,  which,  like  Chap- 
man's, is  in  rhymed  verse;  (3)  the  blank  verse  rendering 
of  AVilliam  Cowper  (1791);  (4)  the  version  of  the  Amer- 
ican poet,  William  Cnllen  Bryant  (1869),  also  in  blank 
verse•  and  (δ)  a  rhymed  verse  rendering  of  the  'Odys- 
sey "  by  the  living  English  poet,  William  Morris.     Among 
these  Pope's  still  holds  an  important  place,  and,  perhaps, 
considered  on  its  merits  as  a  purely  English  poem,  the 
foremost  place.     It  differs  from  the  others  very  greatly  in 
style  and  form,  as  they  too  differ  very  greatly  among  them- 
selves.     These  wide  differences  are  instructive,  as  showing, 
not  only  the  varying  modes  of  several  literary  epochs,  but 
great  divergences  in  apprehending  the  distinctive  quali- 
ties of  Homer's  work. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  best  modern  scholarship 
uot   one   of  these   translations  is  satisfactory;  for  while 
they  give  well  enough  the  substance  of   Homer's  story, 
they  fail  to  reproduce  his  wonderful  and  fascinating  man- 
ner     Indeed,  so  wonderful  and  so  unique  is  that  manner 
that  it  cannot  be  reproduced,  and  Homer,  as  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang  insists,  must  be  regarded  as  untranslatable.       One 
version  produces  this  good  quality  of  the  original,  another 
that;    but  each  will  be  lacking  in  some  vital  respect. 
*'  Chapman,"  to  quote  Mr.  Lang,  ''  makes  Homer  a  fanci- 
ful, euphuistic,  obscure,  and  garrulous  Elizabethan,  but 
Chapman  has  fire.     Pope  makes  him  a  wit,  spirited,  occa- 
sionally noble,  full   of  points  and  epigrams,  and  queer 
rococo  conventionalisms.      Cowper  makes  him  slow,  lum- 


xlii 


miRODUCTION 


beriiig,  a  Milfcon  without  the  music.  .  .  .  Homer  is 
untranslatable.  None  of  us  can  bend  the  bow  of  Eurytus, 
and  make  the  bow-string  '  ring  sweetly  at  t!ie  touch,  like 
the  swallow's  song.'  The  adventure  is  never  to  be 
achieved."  Mr.  Lang  is  doubtless  right;  but  let  us  try  to 
understand  what  has  actually  been  achieved,  especially  in 
the  case  of  Pope. 

Pope  seems  to  have  been  led  to  undertake  the  transla- 
tion  of   Homer  because  he  luid  from   his  youth  been   a 
great  lover  of  Homer's  epics,  and  thought  that  he  appre- 
ciated their  merits;  and  because  he  perceived  the  inade- 
quacy of  the  former  attempts  to  render  them  in  English. 
The  most  famous  of  these  had  been  Chapman's,  which 
Pope  criticises  in  the  preface  to  his  own  ''Iliad."     He 
censures  Cliapman's   ''loose  and  rambling  paraphrase," 
his  frequent    interpolations,  his  strained  interpretations, 
his   involved  expression;    but,  showing  his  just  and  line 
critical  instinct,  he  praises  Chapman  for  ''the  daring,  fiery 
spirit  that  animates  his  translation,"  here  singling  out  the 
quality  for  Avhich   Chapman's  version  is  praised  by  Mr. 
Matthew  Arnold  in  his   famous  essay,   "  On  Translatinsr 
Homer."     How  does  Pope  himself    mend  matters?     He 
l)rofesses  great  reverence  for  Homer's  text,  and  announces 
that  he  will  take  no  unwarranted  liberties  with  it.     But  he 
does  take  what  to-day  are  regarded  as  great  liberties,  and 
were   regarded   by  the  highest   scholarship,  even    in   his 
own  time,  as  liberties.      This  is  shown  in  the  celebrated 
judgment  of  his  contemporary,  the  great  Greek  scholar. 
Bentley:  "  A  pretty  poem,  Mr.  Pope,  but  you  must  not  call 
it  Homer."     Pope  probably  followed  Homer  as  well  as  he 
could;  but  his  equipment  for  his  task  was  very  slight.     He 
knew  comparatively  little  Greek;  and  his  classical  scholar- 
ship, although  he  loved  to  parade  it,  was  neither  profound 
nor  extensive.      He  was  obliged  to  seek  the  assistance  of 
scholars  to  help  him  through  difficult  passages,  and  he  made 
the  most  liberal  use  of  existing  translations,  English,  Latiu, 
and  French.     We  find  in  his  work  serious  mistranslations, 


INTRODUCTION 


xliii 


\i 


ι 


and  some  unwarrantable  omissions,  expansions,  and  con- 
densations. While,  then,  he  improves  upon  Chapman  as 
regards  fidelity  to  the  original,  we  must  not,  as  Bentley 
pat  it,  call  his  version  Homer. 

Turning  from  the  substance  to  the  style,  to  what  extent, 
we  may  ask,  is  the  spirit  of  Homer  preserved  in  his  ren- 
dering ?  According  to  Matthew  Arnold,  Homer  has  four 
main  characteristics:  *'  he  is  rapid  in  his  movement,  he  is 
plain  in  his  words  and  style,  he  is  simple  in  his  ideas,  and 
he  is  noble  in  his  manner."  Again  Pope's  preface  shows 
that,  as  a  critic,  he  did  not  fail  to  apprehend  that  some  of 
these  qualities  were  the  main  features  of  Homer's  style. 
He  praises  Homer's  ''unequalled  fire  and  rapture,"  his 
rapidity,  his  flowing  ease,  and,  above  all,  his  "pure  and 
noble  simplicity."  But  it  is  one  thing  to  praise  these 
qualities;  quite  another  to  give  proper  effect  to  them 
in  an  English  rendering.  Pope,  of  course,  could  not 
escape  from  the  influences  and  literary  conventions  of  his 
age;  and  this  age,  although  it  might  enlarge  upon  the 
noble  simplicity  of  Homer,  and  so  forth,  was  conspicuously 
deficient  in  that  simplicity,  and  was  incapable  of  giving 
expression  to  it.  Pope  shows  this  conclusively.  He  is 
continually  spoiling  the  noble  simplicity  of  Homer,  contin- 
ually sophisticating  it.  When  Homer  says  simply  that 
Apollo  "let  an  arrow  fly;  "  Pope  ornaments  thus:  "And 
hissing  fly  the  feathered  fates  below"  (i.,  68),  which  is 
onomatopoetic  and  alliterative,  but  unfortunately  quite 
un-Homeric,  the  periphrasis  "feathered  fates,"  especially 
so.  Again,  \vhen  Homer  makes  Achilles  declare  in  his 
rage  that  the  Greeks  shall  call  in  vain  upon  him  for  aid 
"when  multitudes  fall  dying  before  manslaying  Hector," 
Pope  must  be  more  grandiose,  and  so  he  expands  melodra- 
matically : 

*'  When,  flush'd  with  slaughter,  Hector  comes  to  spread 
The  purpled  shore  with  mountains  of  the  dead." 

And— to  give  one  more  from  the  examples  with  which 


iLSUMfA 


xliv 


INTRODUCTION 


the  first  book  abounds — Homer  describes  the  withdrawal  of 
Achilles  in  bitterness  of  heart  to  seek  counsel  of  Thetis, 
his  mother,  in  the  following  simple  but  telling  manner: 

"  Then  Achilles  wept  anon,  and  sat  him  down  apart,  aloof  from 
his  comrades,  on  the  beach  of  the  gray  sea,  gazing  across  the 
boundless  main  ;  he  stretched  forth  his  liands  and  prayed  instantly 
to  ids  dear  mother.''  ' 

Pope  renders  the  passage  thus: 

''  Not  so  his  loss  the  fierce  Achilles  bore  ; 
But  sad  retiring  to  the  sounding  shore, 
O'er  the  wild  margin  of  the  deep  he  hung, 
That  kindred  deep  from  which  his  mother  sprung  ; 
There,  bath'd  in  tears  of  anger  and  disdain. 
Thus  loud  lamented  to  the  stoi-iny  main.'' 

Here  the  fourth  line  is  an  interpolation;  the  first  also  is 
virtually  an  addition.  The  third  line,  with  its  ''  wild 
margin  of  the  deep,"  for  the  simple  and  effective  ''beach 
of  the  gray  sea," — not  to  speak  of  ''  he  hung,"  for  "  he  sat 
down," — is  objectionable;  and  so,  too,  is  the  overdrawn  fifth 
line  that  does  duty  for  Homer's  plain  statement:  ''  Then 
Achilles  wept;  "  while  in  the  last  line  Homer's  cpiiet  effect, 
bis  picture  of  the  hero  stretching  forth  his  hands  in  prayer, 
is  spoiled. 

These  examples  will  serve  to  show  whut  kind  of  blem- 
ishes we  meet  w^ith  in  Pope;  sins  for  the  most  part  against 
the  beautiful  simplicity  and  directness  of  Homer.  Here, 
once  more,  Pope's  theory  is  better  than  his  practice.  He 
had  pointed  out  in  his  preface  that  nothing  had  been  more 
commonly  mistaken  bv  the  translators  of  Homer  than 
"  the  just  pitch  of  his  style,"  some  of  them  having 
*' swelled  into  fustian  in  a  proud  confidence  of  the  sub- 
lime; others  sunk  into  flatness  in  a  cold  and  timorous 
notion  of  simplicity."      But  there  is,  he  goes  on  to  point 

^  This  and  oilier  prose  renderings  are  taken  from  the  unequalled 
version  of  Lang,  Leaf,  and  Myers  (Macmillan). 


INTRODUCTION 


I! 


xlv 


out,  *'a  graceful  and  dignified  simplicity  as  well  as  a  bold 
and  sordid  one."  Of  this  simplicity  Homer  has,  he  asserts, 
the  secret;  and  if  we  will  but  follow  modestly  in  his  foot- 
steps, he  will  teach  us  when  to  be  plain,  and  when  to  be 
poetical  and  figurative.  Pope,  alas,  does  not  follow  his 
own  counsel.  His  dread  of  dulness  and  his  consciousness 
that  his  contemporaries  will  tolerate  almost  any  short- 
coming rather  than  that,  leads  him  astray;  and  he  cannot 
resist  the  temptation  and  the  native  tendency  to  trick  out 
Homer  in  a  few  rhetorical  flounces  and  furbelows.  It 
may  be  questioned  whether  Pope  came  near  to  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  easy,  unstudied  dignity,  and  the  spontaneous, 
unbookish  freshness  of  Homer's  manner;  but,  in  any  case, 
he  gives  us  a  Homer  who  boasts  some  of  the  most  approved 
graces  of  Pope's  neo-classic,  artificial  age;  a  Homer  who  is, 
so  to  speak,  bewigged  and  beruffled,  and  mounted  on  the 
high-heeled  shoes  of  English  fashion.  His  rough  manners 
have  been  smoothed  down  to  harmonize  with  the  decorum 
of  that  punctilious  age;  his  speech,  with  its  somewhat 
annoying  repetitions  and  recurrent  epithets,  has  been  made 
more  sententious  and  epigrammatic,  to  suit  the  wits  of  the 
coffee-house. 

As  to  the  form  of  Pope's  verse,  it  has  already  been 
pointed  out  that  one  form,  the  ten-syllabled  couplet,  was 
made  to  do  duty  in  all  of  Pope's  important  works,  regard- 
less of  differences  in  subject-matter  and  design.  It  was 
the  favorite  and  characteristic  verse-form  of  the  age,  and 
was  the  mould  into  Avhich  everything  was  forced.  Its 
adoption  by  Pope  for  his  translation  of  Homer  was  a  clear 
sign  of  his  inability  to  catch  the  deeper  art-spirit  of 
Homer's  Avork.  The  resort  to  rhyme  not  only  imposes 
severe  limitations  upon  the  poet,  but,  as  Matthew  Arnold 
has  pointed  out,  leads  to  a  false  pairing  of  lines  which  are 
distinct,  and  by  intensifying  antithesis,  intensifies  separa- 
tion. Moreover,  the  jigging  see-saw  of  the  rhyme  contin- 
ually jars  upon  us.  This  perpetual,  monotonous  clicking 
of  the  couplet,  how  unlike  the  long  sweep,  the  flowing 


if 


xlvi 


INTRODUCTION 


cadeuce  of  the  Homeric  hexameter!  The  flash  and  glitter 
of  the  rhyme,  the  obtrusive  bahince  and  antithesis  of  the 
phrases,  the  unceasing  hurry  of  the  lines,  as  of  a  person 
who  takes  short,  rapid  steps— how  unlike  the  equable,  un- 
halting,  yet  dignified  movement,  the  swinging  stride,  of  the 

Homeric  verse! 

And  yet  the  translation,  after  every  deduction  has  been 
made,  is  a  monument  of  genius  that  fully  holds  its  own 
Avith  other  versions  that  bring  us  nearer  to  Homer.  The 
Homer  presented  by  Pope  may  be  an  ariachronism,  but,  at 
any  rate,  he  is  an  energetic  and  spirited  Homer;  a  Homer 
that  is  very  entertaining;  a  Homer  that  tells  his  story 
clearly  and  rapidly,  in  spite  of  the  little  embroideries 
wherewith  it  is  adorned.  Pope,  as  we  have  seen,  had  a 
keen  appreciation  of  the  fire  of  Homer's  style;  and  his 
greatest  success  is  in  the  translation  of  those  passages  which 
are  most  animated  and  colored  by  strong  emotion.  He  is 
successful,  for  example,  in  his  own  (not  Homer's)  way  in 
the  spirited  speeches  and  in  his  reproduction  of  the  stir  and 
movement  of  the  battlefield  and  the  combat;  and  it  is  per- 
haps because  Homer's  narrative  is  highly  seasoned  by  him 
here  and  there,  in  a  way  that  hits  the  average  taste,  that 
his  version  has  proved  so  attractive  to  the  general  reader. 

Finally,  by  way  of  giving  some  idea  of  the  differences 
in  style  between  Pope's  version  and  otliers  before  referred 
to,  let  ns  compare  a  passage  or  two  from  some  of  them,— 
say  from  Pope's  predecessor  Chapnum,  and  from  his  suc- 
cessor Bryant.  No  book  makes  heavier  demands  upon  the 
skill  of  tiie  translator  than  the  twenty-fourth,  supreme  in 
its  beauty  of  pathos  and  tenderness;  so  our  selection  shall 
be  made  from  that.  We  may  take  the  passage  that  pre- 
sents the  picture  of  Hector,  beautiful  in  death.  The  old 
King  Priam,  noble  in  his  grief,  has  asked  Hermes  to  tell 
him  liow  the  body  of  his  dead  son  fares,  and  the  god 
answers,  as  Chapman  interprets: 

«« .  ,  ,  But,  though  now  twelve  days  have  spent  their  heat 
On  his  cold  body,  neither  worms  with  any  taint  have  eat, 


INTRODUCTION 


xlvii 


Nor  putrefaction  perished  it  ;  yet  ever,  when  the  morn 

Lifts  her  divine  hght  from  the  sea,  unmercifully  borne 

About  Patroclus'  sepulchre,  it  bears  his  friend's  disdain, 

Bound  to  his  chariot  ;  but  no  fits  of  further  outrage  reign 

In  his  distemper.     You  would  muse  to  see  how  deep  a  dew 

Even  steeps  the  body,  all  the  blood  washed  off,  no  slcnd'rest  show 

Of  gore  or  quitture,  but  his  wounds  all  closed,  though  many  were 

Opened  about  him.     Such  a  love  the  blest  immortals  bear. 

Even  dead,  to  thy  dear  son,  because  his  life  showed  love  to  them." 

How  involved  this  is,  and  how  far  removed  by  its  Eliza- 
bethan frills  of  fancifulness  from  the  plainness  of  the 
original,  may  be  appreciated  if  we  take  next  Bryant's  literal 
version : 

"  Twelve  mornings  have  beheld  him  lying  there, 
Nor  hath  corruption  touched  him,  nor  the  worms 
That  make  the  slain  their  feast  begun  to  feed. 
'Tis  true  that,  when  the  holy  morning  dawns, 
Achilles  drags  him  fiercely  round  the  tomb 
Of  his  dear  friend  ;  yet  that  disfigures  not 
The  dead.     Shouldst  thou  approach  him,  thou  would'st  see 
With  marvelling  eyes  how  fresh  and  dewy  still 
The  body  lies,  the  blood  all  cleansed  away, 
Unsoiled  in  every  part,  and  all  the  wounds 
Closed  up  wherever  made  ;  for  many  a  spear 
Was  thrust  into  his  sides.     Thus  tenderly 
The  blessed  gods  regard  Ihy  son,  though  dead, 
For  dearly  was  he  loved  by  them  in  life." 

The  blank  verse  gives  Bryant  an  advantage  over  Pope; 
and  yet,  as  we  shall  see.  Pope's  will  stand  well  a  compari- 
son with  the  more  modern  version.  Bryant's  failing  is  a 
tendency  to  drop  to  the  commonplace,  and  to  become  tame 
and  spiritless.  Pope,  on  the  other  liand,  tends  to  infuse 
an  artificial  vitality  into  his  lines.  Like  Chapman,  whom 
he  censures  for  it,  he  is  very  free  in  his  rendering;  but  this 
time  he  has  caught  the  spirit  of  his  original  better  than  is 
his  wont: 

'•  This  the  twelfth  evening  since  he  rested  there 
Untouch'd  by  worms,  untainted  by  the  air. 


ahaiaggfeifit^Jfc«fa»a^avJM^!i«j^a*'>^^^^^ 


xlviii  INTROD  UCTION 

Still  as  Aurora's  ruddy  beam  is  spread, 

Round  his  friend's  tomb  Achilles  drags  the  dead  ; 

Yet  undisfigur'd,  or  in  limb  or  face, 

All  fresh  lie  lies,  with  ev'ry  living  grace, 

Majestical  in  death  !     No  stains  are  found 

O'er  all  the  corse,  and  elos'd  his  ev'ry  wound; 

Though  many  a  wound  they  gave.     Some  heav'nly  care, 

Some  hand  divine,  preserves  him  ever  fair  : 

Or  all  the  host  of  heav'n,  to  whom  he  led 

A  life  so  grateful,  still  regard  him  dead." 

Other  instructive  comparisons  might  be  made;  but  this 
single  one  must  suffice  to  show  wherein  Pope's  real  strength 
lies;  in  clearness  of  construction,  in  vigor  and  speed  of 
movement,  in  the  stimulating  briskness  of  his  general 
manner.  Attention  will  be  drawn  in  the  notes  to  some  of 
the  peculiarities  of  Pope's  style,  and  to  many  of  the  more 
important  departures  from  the  sense  and  manner  of  the 
original. 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS 


The  teacher  has  primarily  before  him  the  responsible 
and  difficult  task  of  introducing  to  his  students  one  of  the 
great  books  of  the  world,  one  of  the  bibles  of  the  race; 
and  of  so  introducing  it  that  it  may  yield  lasting  pleasure 
and  profit,  and  infuse  into  life  something  of  that  **  fresh- 
ness of  the  early  world  "  which  keeps  the  old  young.  He 
must  therefore,  first  of  all,  help  his  students  to  enjoy 
Homer's  story  and  to  wander  with  delight  in  the  Homeric 
wTjrld.  Then  let  him  see  to  it  that  out  of  this  enjoyment 
there  grows  a  keen,  broadening  interest  in  the  varied  aspects 
of  Homeric  life  and  legend,  in  the  characters  and  fortunes 
of  the  personages  that  are  brought  to  view,  and  in  all  the 
circumstances  of  their  lives  in  peace  and  in  war.  This  is 
to  assume  that  Homer  and  his  works  will  form  the  centre 
of  interest,  and  that  the  student  will  be  led  out  from  this 
centre  to  concern  himself  with  Homer's  interpreter.  Pope. 

As  first  impressions  count  for  so  much,  it  will  be  well  to 
make  the  initial  jDresentation  of  the  "Iliad"  bold  and 
strong.  With  an  average  class  of  high-school  boys  and 
girls,  w^ho  have  not  read  Homer  before,  the  best  course  will 
be  to  plunge  at  once  into  the  tale  of  Troy;  to  give  it  com- 
plete in  broad  outline;  and,  in  doing  so,  to  introduce  a  few 
of  the  more  moving  passages  from  Pope,  to  be  read  effec- 
tively, or,  better  still,  recited,  by  the  teacher.  Considera- 
ble importance  should  be  attached  to  a  good  vocal  render- 
ing of  Homer;  indeed  the  art  of  the  old  rhapsodists  might, 
within  certain  limits,  be  revived. 

After  this  general  introduction,  this  setting  up  of  what 
the  Herbartians  would  call  helpful  apperceptive  centres  of 
an  interest  that  should  be  as  many-sided  as  possible,  the 


1 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 


reading  of  the  text  may  be  begun,  tlie  teacher  leading  οίϊ, 
and  taking  his  turn  from  time  to  time  with  the  students. 
This  first  reading  should  be  rapid— as  rapid,  that  is,  as  is 
consistent  with  an  intelligent  following  of  the  narrative. 
Tfow  much  the  quick  advance  should  be  retarded  by  expla- 
nation and  research,  it  must  be  left  to  the  tact  of  the 
teacher  to  determine.  The  effect  of  the  whole  must  not 
be  marred  by  too  much  attention  to  details;  the  object 
being  at  this  stage  to  help  the  student  to  gain  a  sympa- 
thetic, imaginative  comprehension  of  the  Homeric  world 
and  the  Homeric  spirit.  The  memorizing  of  selected  pas- 
sages maybe  begun;  and  to  give  dramatic  effect  to  the 
speeches  (in  Book  i.  especially),  they  may  be  assigned  to 
different  students,  as  are  the  parts  of  a  play. 

The  student  will  be  assisted  in  appreciating  the  spirit  of 
Homer  by  being  referred  to  manifestations  of  that  spirit  in 
modern  literature  with  which  he  is  familiar,  especially  in 
the  works  of  **  the  most  Homeric  of  modern  men,"  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  Some  of  the  old  ballads  of  heroic  temper, 
and  even  the  romances  of  Kingsley  or  Dumas,  may  be 
used  for  fruitful  comparative  work.  In  this  connection 
the  teacher  may  be  helped  by  Jebb's  remarks  on  the  rela- 
tion of  Homeric  poetry  to  balhid  poetry  and  to  the  poetry 
of  Scott  (''Introduction  to  Homer,'' pp.  12-23);  and  by 
sundry  suggestive  alhisions  in  Mr.  Andrew  Lang's  essays 
on  Scott's  poems,  Dumas,  and  the  study  of  Homer,  in  his 
"Essays  in  Little." 

After  the  first  stimulating  reading  of  the  text,  the  stu- 
dent ought  to  be  ready  to  pursue  with  eager  pleasure  his 
investigation  of  details.  The  work  of  research  will,  of 
course,  be  divided  among  the  membei-s  of  the  class;  and 
the  written  reports  wiiich  they  bring  in— all  of  which  are 
to  be  read  for  the  instruction  of  the  whole  class— should 
be  supplemented  by  pictures,  plans,  diagrams,  maps,  etc., 
to  illustrate  the  subject-matter,  so  that  the  student's  con- 
tact with  the  ancient  world  may  be  as  close  and  real  as  the 
aid  of  art  can  make  it.     Good  classical  dictionaries  and 


ii^lllli, 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 


li 


atlases,  like  Schreiber's,  Seyfert's,  and  Smith's,  should  be 
drawn  upon  for  illustrative  materials,  and  so  should  vol- 
umes such  as  Schuchhardt's  *'  Schliemann's  Excavations," 
translated  by  Miss  Sellers  (this  and  Schreiber  and  Seyfert 
are  published  by  Macmillan),  and  Flaxman's  chaste  illus- 
trations of  Homer  (published  separately  in  good  form  by 
Macmillan  also).  Where  the  course  of  study  can  be  so 
arranged,  there  should  be  a  close  correlation  of  the  school- 
work  in  literature  Λvith  that  in  history  and  drawing.  If 
the  more  important  parts  of  the  work  of  illustrating  words 
and  passages  from  the  text  by  drawings  of  armor,  weap- 
ons, utensils,  garments,  buildings,  etc.,  can  be  done  under 
the  drawing-teacher's  supervision,  so  much  the  better.  It 
will  mean  more  to  the  student. 

The  study  of  Homeric  myth  and  legend  may  proceed 
along  the  lines  suggested  in  Gayley's  admirable  ''Classic 
Myths  in  English  Literature"  (Ginn).  By  this  method 
the  student  is  brought  to  realize  the  extent  to  which  Hel- 
lenic fable  lives  in  English  poetry.  The  teacher  will  find 
Miss  Jane  Harrison's  *'  Myths  of  the  Odyssey  "  suggestive 
reading. 

In  his  endeavors  to  reconstruct  the  Homeric  world,  the 
student  should  be  impressed  with  the  fact  that  he  is  dealing 
at  first  hand  with  many  of  those  data  by  means  of  which 
the  great  historians  of  antiquity  have  elaborated  their 
accounts  of  these  bygone  times.  Let  him,  in  however 
modest  a  way,  be  an  original  investigator,  and  know  for 
himself  what  the  writing  of  reliable  history  means.  He 
may  be  required  to  collate  the  scattered  references  to  the 
polity,  social  life,  domestic  life,  amusements,  arts,  religion, 
warfare,  etc.,  of  the  Homeric  Greeks;  and  on  the  basis  of 
these  write  careful  accounts  of  one  or  more  of  them. 
This  work  may  be  made  to  culminate  in  the  illustrated 
term-essay,  dealing  with  such  topics  as  the  Handicrafts, 
the  Hospitality,  the  Religious  Observances  of  the  Homeric 
Greeks,  the  Position  of  Women  among  them,  their  Family 
Life^  and  so  forth.     For  supplementary  reading,  to  aid  in 


i-jSfe^Aa>3wiAkitgJ-a,?fc*,.>acl••^^  .i!ric«tM8e'.is.»:t>^iBjc<i.^Aajte^-M}M 


Hi 


SUQOESTIu.\S  FOR   TEACHERS 


such  work,  the  student  may  be  referred  to  Gladstone's 
*'IIomer  Primer"  (American  Book  Co.),  Jebb's  "Intro- 
duction to  Homer"  (Ginn),  and  his  ^'Primer  of  Greek 
Literature"  (American  Book  Co.);  Leaf's  "  Companion  to 
the  Iliad"  (Macmillan),  Warr's  *'The  Greek  Epic" 
(Young),  Mahaffy's  '* Social  Life  in  Greece"  (Macmil- 
lan), Lanp^'s  ''Homer  and  the  Epic"  (Longmans), 
Grote's,  Oman's,  or  other  good  histories;  Gardner's  "  New 
Chapters  of  Greek  History"  (Putnam);  together  with 
those  authoritative  treatises  on  Greek  art  and  archaeology 
that  cover  the  Homeric  period. 

Tasks  of  another  character  may  be  assigned  in  connec- 
tion with  the  student's  work  in  composition  and  rhetoric. 
He  may  be  asked  to  give  condensed  prose  versions  of  cer- 
tain episodes  and  speeches,  changing  direct  to  indirect  nar- 
ration, historic  present  to  past  tense,  etc.  Church's 
'•  Story  of  the  Iliad  "  may  be  used  as  a  corrective  model. 
Much  may  be  done  in  the  way  of  character-study,  the 
heroes  and  heroines  of  Homer  being  compared  with  other 
comparable  personages  of  fiction.  As  exercises  in  versifica- 
tion, renderings  of  selected  Greek  myths  and  legends  in 
imitation  of  Pope's  manner  may  be  asked  for;  and,  as  a 
preparation  for  this  (if  necessary),  renderings  in  blank 
verse.  Finally  the  study  of  Pojie's  language  and  style 
should  be  taken  up.  Here  we  pass  from  the  study  of 
Homer  to  the  study  of  Pope,  and  the  transition  is  easy  and 
natural. 

Pope,  and  his  share  in  the  i)roduct,  must  inevitably  be 
brought  to  mind  again  and  again  in  the  course  of  the 
study  of  the  text.  This  or  that  effect— figure,  inversion, 
ellipsis,  alliteration,  onomatopa^ia,  climax,  anticlimax — 
is  it  Pope's  own,  or  Homer's  reproduced  ?  Such  questions 
will  lead  on  to  more  general  ones:  How  much  of  himself 
is  Pope  importing  into  his  version?  What  features  are 
peculiarities  of  Pope's  general  style  and  the  style  of  his 
age  ?  By  these  must  the  student  be  i-ecalled,  time  and  time 
again,  from  the  ancient  poet  and  Lis  world  to  the  modern 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 


liii 


I 

u 


poet  and  his.  It  has  already  been  suggested  that  the  best 
way  to  bring  into  relief  the  special  features  of  Pope's  work 
is  to  compare  it  with  other  versions.  Tliis  may  be  done, 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  discovering  which  version  best 
preserves  the  spirit  and  substance  of  the  original,  but  with 
a  view  to  studying  the  linguistic  and  rhetorical  character- 
istics of  each.  To  study  in  this  comparative  way  the  ver- 
sions of  Chapman,  Pope,  and  Bryant,  is  to  study  the  lan- 
guage and  the  poetic  style  of  three  distinct  literary  epochs, 
and  to  become  aware  of  striking  differences  in  the  diction, 
the  syntax,  the  sentence-structure  of  these  epochs.  Some 
of  the  distinctive  features  of  Pope's  diction  must  in  any 
case  be  understood,  whether  by  means  of  this  comparative 
method  or  otherwise.  Many  of  them  are  dealt  with  in  the 
notes. 

Lastly,  the  student  is  brought  to  a  study  of  the  circum- 
stances under  which  Pope  produced  the  Avork,  and  of  the 
relation  tliat  it  has  to  his  other  work,  as  to  form  and  spirit. 
Does  it  represent  him  at  his  best  ?  AVhat  did  his  contem- 
poraries think  of  it?  What  have  the  critics  had  to  say 
about  it?  And  so  questions  might  be  multiplied,  one 
leading  to  another,  and  involving  the  study,  at  one  time  of 
Pope's  life  and  works,  at  another  of  his  age  and  the  reflec- 
tion of  it  in  his  writings.  Tlie  literature  available  for 
these  purposes  is  abundant;  among  others  the  following 
works  may  be  recommended :  Leslie  Stephen's  Life  of 
Pope,  in  the  English  Men  of  Letters  Series  (Macmillan, 
Harper),  the  best  short  life  of  Pope,  unless  it  be  tlohnson's, 
one  of  the  finest  of  his  "  Lives  of  the  Poets";  the  Globe 
Edition  (Macmillan)  of  Pope's  works,  with  its  prefatory 
memoir  by  the  editor,  Professor  A.  W.  Ward;  Part  iii. 
of  Pancoast's  **  Introduction  to  English  Literature" 
(Holt);  Gosse's  "History  of  Eighteenth  Century  Litera- 
ture" (Macmillan);  Mark  Pattison's  Introduction  to 
the  Selections  from  Pope  in  Ward's  "British  Poets" 
(Macmillan),  and  his  editions  of  the  "  Essay  on  Man" 
and  "Satires"  and  "Epistles"  in  the  Clarendon  Press 


J^-klfaiSiijfta^aiCi^ftASfljittd^  ■  .  ^«  *-^.x.--3fc.<&iwatj».rf.JafH 


ί.ίΐ-^•ΐίΙΐΜΑ^..ί>»>*ί-ίί*•    ilfc^J-1 


liv 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 


Series;  Hales's  edition  of  the  "Rape  of  the  Lock,"  in 
**  Longer  English  Poems";  and  the  essays  by  De  Quincey 
and  Lowell.  The  history  of  the  period  may  be  studied  at 
length  in  Lecky's  ''England in  the  Eighteenth  Centnry," 
vol.  i.,  chap,  iv.,  or  more  briefly  in  Green's  "  Short  History 
of  the  English  People"  (the  illustrated  edition  is  best) ; 
while  Thackeray's  "Henry  Esmond,"  and  his  chapters 
on  the  first  two  Georges  in  "  The  Four  Georges,"  present 
the  social  life  of  the  period  in  a  graphic  and  interesting 
manner. 


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Longmans,  Green  ct  Co.,  iVew  Yorfc. 


THE 


ILIAD 


OF 


HOMER 


Translated  by  Mr.  Pope, 


Te  sequor,  Ο  Oraim  gentis  Decus !  inquc  tuis  nunc 
Fixa  pedum  pono  pressis  vestigia  mgnis : 
Non  itxi  certandi  cupidus,  quam  propter  Amorem, 
Quod  Te  imitari  aveo. 


— LUCRET. 


LONDON: 
Printed  by  W.  Bowyer,  for  Bernard  Liktott,  between 
the  Temple-Gates,  1715. 


■  ■•  >  .     , 


THE   ILIAD* 


BOOK   I. 


THE  ARGUMENT. 


*: 


Homer  is  a  pwt  for  all  ages,  all  races,  and  all  moods.  To 
the  Greeks  the  epics  were  not  only  the  best  of  romances, 
the  richest  of  poetry;  not  only  their  oldest  documents  aliout 
their  own  history,— they  were  also  their  Bible,  their  treasury 
of  religious  traditions  and  moral  teaching.  With  the  Bible 
and  Shakespeare,  the  Homeric  i)oems  are  the  best  training 
for  life.  There  is  no  good  quality  that  they  lack:  manliness, 
courage,  reverence  for  old  age  and  for  the  hospital)le  hearth; 
justice,  piety,  pity,  a  brave  attitude  towards  life  and  death, 
are  all  conspicuous  in  Homer.  He  has  to  write  of  battles; 
and  he  delights  in  the  joy  of  battle,  and  in  all  the  move- 
ment of  war.  Yet  he  delights  not  less,  but  more,  in  j>eace : 
in  prosperous  cities,  hearths  secure,  in  the  tender  beauty  of 
children,  in  the  love  of  wedded  wives,  in  the  frank  nobility 
of  maidens,  in  the  beauty  of  earth  and  sky  and  sea  and 
seaward  murmuring  river,  in  sun  and  snow,  frost  and  mist 
and  rain. — Andrew  Lang. 


'  i 


I 


THE  CONTENTION  OF   ACHILLES  AND   ΑΠΑΜΕΜΝΟΝ. 

In  the  war  of  Troy,  the  Greeks  having  sacked  some  of  the  neigh- 
bouring towns,  and  taken  from  thence  two  beautiful  captives,  Chry- 
sei's  and  Briseis,  allotted  the  first  to  Agamemnon,  and  the  last  to 
Achilles.  Chryses,  the  father  of  Chryseis,  and  priest  of  Apollo, 
comes  to  the  Grecian  camp  to  ransom  her  ;  with  which  the  iiction  of 
the  poem  opens,  in  the  tenth  year  of  the  siege.  The  priest  being 
refused  and  insolently  dismissed  by  Agamemnon,  entreats  for  ven- 
geance from  his  god,  who  inflicts  a  pestilence  on  the  Greeks.  Achilles 
calls  a  council,  and  encourages  Ohalcas  to  declare  the  cause  of  it, 
who  attributes  it  to  the  refusal  of  Chryseis.  The  king  being  obliged 
to  send  back  his  captive,  enters  into  a  furious  contest  with  Achilles, 
which  Nestor  pacifies  ;  however,  as  he  had  the  absolute  command 
of  the  army,  he  seizes  on  Briseis  in  revenge.  Achilles  in  discontent 
withdraws  himself  and  his  forces  from  the  rest  of  the  Greeks  ;  and 
complaining  to  Thetis,  she  supplicates  Jupiter  to  render  them  sensi- 
ble of  the  wrong  done  to  her  son,  by  giving  victory  to  the  Trojans. 
Jupiter  granting  her  suit,  incenses  J  uno,  between  whom  the  debate 
runs  high,  till  they  are  reconciled  by  the  address  of  Vulcan. 

The  time  of  two-and-twenty  days  is  taken  up  in  this  book  ;  nine 
during  the  plague,  one  in  the  council  and  quarrel  of  the  Princes,  and 
twelve  for  Jupiter's  stay  with  the  Ethiopians,  at  whose  return  Thetis 
prefers  her  petition.  The  scene  lies  in  the  Grecian  camp,  then 
changes  to  Chrysa,  and  lastly  to  Olympus. 

Achilles'  wrath,  to  Greece  the  direful  spring 
Of  woes  iinimmber'd,  heav'nly  goddess,  sing  ! 

*  Poem  about  Lion,  or  Troy.     Cf.  Pope's  title.  The  Dunciad. 
1-10.  The  epic  opens  with  a  brief  prologue,  in  whicli  the  bard 
announces  his  theme,  the  disastrous  wrath  of  Achilles  as  affecting 


1 


ΐΒϋ«ίΜίίΐί!ΐ•-*^•ί>""•—-Αί.:^•.-.•ίί^ί.Λ.!.ί..Α— 1--^.».~  — ..r...» 


4  TEE  ILIAD 

Thac  rvrath  which  hiirlM  to  Pluto's  gloomy  reign 

Tpo  soulsof  mighty  cliiefs  untimely  slain  : 

AVhose  limbs,  .luo'iriod  on  the  naked  shore, 

nev'ouring'iiogs  and  nungry  vultures  tore  : 

Since  great  Achilles  and  Atrides  strove, 

Such  was  the  sov'reign  doom,  and  such  the  will  of  Jove  ! 

noclare,  0  Muse  !  in  what  ill-fated  hour 
Sprung  the  fierce  strife,  from  what  offended  power  ?      10 
Latona's  son  a  dire  contagion  spread, 
And  heap'd  the  camp  with  mountains  of  the  dead  -/'^ 

the  war  against  Troy;  and  invokes  with  religious  solemnity  the  aid 
of  the  goddess,  i.  e.,  the  Epic  Muse.  The  office  of  bard  or  minstrel 
was  a  sacred  one.  He  was  no  mere  artist,  but  was  supposed  to  be 
inspired  by  the  gods,  especially  the  Muses,  daughters  of  Zeus  and 
Mnemosyne  (Memory),  who  sang  to  the  g(xls  (seel.,  774,775),  aiul 
presided  over  all  kinds  of  poetry. 

This  form  of  invocation  was  followed  by  later  epic  poets.  Cf.  Vir- 
giFs  ^neid.  Even  Milton  in  his  Christian  epic  invokes,  pagan-like, 
"  the  heavenly  Muse; "  and  the  old  mythological  phrasing  persists  iii 
the  poetry  of  to-day. 

3.  Pluto.     In  Greek,  Hades,  the  god  of  the  under  world;  but  the 
name  was,  later  on,  applied  to  the  place,  instead  of  to  its  ruler. 
3.  Reign,  realm,  kingdom,  from  Lat.  regnum. 

6.  Vultures.  Yo\)e  wishes  to  be  more  accurate  than  Homer,  who 
says,  in  a  free,  poetical  way,  "  all  winged  fowls." 

7.  Atrides,  son  of  Atreus,  meaning  Agamemnon,  although  the 
word  would  apply  also  to  his  brother  Menelaus.  The  terminal  "  ides  " 
is  akin  to  the  terminal  in  the  English  John-so/i,  or  to  the  Scottisli 
j!/ac  or  Irish  0*.  These  patronymics  are  often  used;  thus  Pelides, 
son  of  Peleus,  or  Achilles;  Tydides,  son  of  Tydeus,  or  Diomedes. 

7.  Homer  does,  in  fact,  apply  here  to  Atrides  the  distinguisliing 
epithet  ''king  of  men,"  used  again  in  lines  13,  78,  etc.;  but  Pope 
very  often  drops  these  characteristically  Homeric  .epithets  as  tire- 
some.    He  tries  to  justify  these  omissjans  in  his  Preface. 

8.  What  is  the  nornuil  metre  of  the  i3oem  ?  What  about  this 
line  ? 

11.  Latona's  son,  λψΑΙο. 

j.    12.  A  good  example  of  Pope's  mistaken  efforts  to  heighten  the 

effect  by  melodramatic  exaggeration.      "Mountains  of  the  dead" 

(see  also  1.  320)  may  be  classed  with  innumerable  poetic  conventions 


I 


I 


I 


BOOK  I  5 

The  king  of  men  his  rev'rend  priest  defied, 
And  for  the  king's  offence  the  people  died. 

For  Chryses  sought  with  costly  gifts  to  gain 
His  captive  daughter  from  the  victor's  chain. 
Suppliant  the  venerable  father  stands  ; 
Apollo's  awful  ensigns  grace  his  hands  : 
By  these  he  begs;  and,  lowly  bending  down. 
Extends  tlie  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown.  20 

He  sued  to  all,  but  chief  iniplor'd  for  grace 
The  brother-kings  of  Atreus'  royal  race  : 

''  Ye  kings  and  warriors  !  may  your  vows  be  crown'd. 
And  Troy's  proud  walls  lie  level  with  the  ground  ; 
May  Jove  restore  you,  when  your  toils  are  o'er, 
Safe  to  the  pleasures  of  your  native  shore. 
But  oh  !  relieve  a  wretched  parent's  pain. 
And  give  Chrysei's  to  these  arms  again  ; 

which  ornament  the   poetry  of  Pope's   time.     Homer  says,   "the 
people  began  to  perish." 

15.  Is  this  paragraphing  good  ? 

16.  We  are  reminded  of  the  French  phrase  cherchez  la  femme  when 
we  reiiect  upon  the  fatal  parts  which  beautiful  women  play  in  the 
legend  of  Troy.  Lovely  Helen  had  caused  the  war;  Chryseis  causes 
the  breach  between  Achilles  and  Agamemnon. 

17.  How  should  this  line  be  accented  ? 

18.  Awful  ensigns  grace.  Seemingly  inconsistent:  but  awful 
means  awe-inspiring;  and  ensigns,  not  flags,  but  insignia,  badges  of 
office. 

20.  As  to  "the  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown,"  Pope  is  wrong. 
Chryses  bore,  says  Homer,  "  the  fillet  of  Apollo,  the  Far-darter,  upon 
a  golden  staff."  This  fillet,  or  chaplet,  was  a  band  or  strip  of  wool 
which  the  priest  wore  round  his  head  as  a  sign  of  his  office.  He 
now  carries  it  wrapped  around  his  staff,  to  signify  that  he  is  a 
suppliant. 

21.  Chief.     What  is  the  syntax  ?    Can  you  give  other  instances  ? 

22.  Brother.kings.     See  note  on  line  7  :'  Atrides. 
23-30.  Pope  is  very  free  in  his  rendering  of  this  speech  ;  e.g.,  by 


warriors 


..ij " 


he  loosely  translates  the  words  which  mean  "  well- 
greaved  Achapans."  one  of  Homer's  familiar  epithets.  As  to  this 
and  other  names  for  the  Greeks,  see  Introduction,  p.  xxiii.  As  to 
the  greave,  see  Introduction,  p.  xxvi. 


6 


TEE  ILIAD 


9J 


30 


If  mercy  fail,  yet  let  my  presents  move. 
And  dread  avenging  Phoebus,  son  of  Jove. 

The  Greeks  in  shouts  their  joint  assent  declare. 
The  priest  to  reverence  and  release  the  fair. 
Not  so  Atrides  :  he,  with  kingly  pride, 
Repuls'd  the  sacred  sire,  and  thus  replied  : 

''  Hence  on  thy  life,  and  fly  these  hostile  plains, 
Nor  ask,  presumptuous,  what  the  king  detains  ; 
Hence,  with  thy  laurel  crown  and  golden  rod, 
Nor  trust  too  far  those  ensigns  of  thy  god. 
Mine  is  thy  daughter,  priest,  and  shall  remain  ; 
And  prayers,  and  tears,  and  bribes,  shall  plead  in  vain  ;  40 
Till  time  shall  rifle  every  youthful  grace. 
And  age  dismiss  her  from  my  cold  embrace  ; 
In  daily  labours  of  the  loom  employed. 
Or  doom'd  to  deck  the  bed  she  once  enjoy'd. 
Hence  then  !  to  Argos  shall  the  maid  retire. 
Far  from  her  native  soil  and  weeping  sire/' 

The  trembling  priest  along  the  shore  return'd. 
And  in  the  anguisli  of  a  father  mourn'd. 
Disconsolate,  not  daring  to  complain, 
Silent  he  wander'd  by  the  sounding  main  : 
Till,  safe  at  distance,  to  his  god  he  prays. 
The  god  who  darts  around  the  world  his  rays  : 


50 


30.  What  is  the  syntax  of  dread  f 

31.  Asseyit,  consent,  wilhngness. 

32.  A  very  Popean  hne  us  to  both  form  and  diction.  The  fair 
was  another  poetic  convention  of  the  perio<i 

45.  Argos  was  the  name  of  the  chief  city  of  the  Peloponnesus,  but 
designates  the  whole  country.  The  Greeks  are  often  called  Argives. 
Cf.  Achseans,  and  note  on  23-30. 

50.  What  force  has  the  en»i)hasis  upon  silent  9  Soundinff  main 
docs  not  reproduce  Homer's  onomatopoelie  etfect.  "  Loud-sounding 
sea"  is  the  prose  version.     Why  should  the  word  "  main  "  be  applied 

to  the  sea  ? 

52.  Ilonier's  epithet  for  Apollo  is  '*the  Far-darter."  He  has 
already  applied  it  three  limes,  but  Pope  has  omitted  it;  and  he  nudtes 
amends  here,  where  it  is  not  used  in  the  Greek. 


BOOK  I  7 

''  0  Smintheus  !  sprung  from  fair  Latona's  line. 
Thou  guardian  power  of  Cilia  the  divine. 
Thou  source  of  liglit  !  whom  Tenedos  adores. 
And  whose  bright  presence  gilds  thy  Chrysa's  shores  : 
If  e'er  with  wreaths  I  hung  thy  sacred  fane. 
Or  fed  the  flames  with  fat  of  oxen  slain  ; 
God  of  the  silver  bow  !  thy  shafts  employ. 
Avenge  thy  servant,  and  the  Greeks  destroy.^'  CO 

Thus  Chryses  pray'd  :  the  fav'ring  power  attends. 
And  from  Olympus'  lofty  tops  descends. 
Bent  was  his  bow,  the  Grecian  hearts  to  wound  ; 
Fierce,  as  he  mov'd,  his  silver  shafts  resound. 
Breathing  revenge,  a  sudden  night  he  spread. 
And  gloomy  darkness  roll'd  around  his  head. 
The  fleet  in  view,  he  twang'd  his  deadly  bow. 
And  hissing  fly  the  feather'd  fates  below. 
On  mules  and  dogs  th'  infection  first  began  ; 
And  last  the  vengeful  arrows  tix'd  in  man.  70 

For  nine  long  nights  through  all  the  dusky  air 
Tiie  pyres  thick-flaming  shot  a  dismal  glare. 

53.  Smintheus.  This  title  of  Apollo  comes  from  a  word  meaning 
field-mouse.     The  commentators  are  not  agreed  as  to  its  significance. 

54-56.  Cilia  was  a  snmll  city  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Troad. 
Chrysa  is  near  by,  and  Tenedos  is  a  neighboring  island. 

60.  To  the  shafts  of  Apollo  (and  his  sister  Diana  also)  the  Greeks 
ascribed  pestilence  and  plague,  and  sudden,  unaccountable  deaths. 
Although  Apollo  is  not  associated  with  the  sun  in  Homer,  this  part 
of  destroyer  suggests  the  evil  effects  of  the  sun's  fierce  rays  in 
drought,  sunstroke,  etc.     Cf.  vi.,  250  ;  xxiv.,  761,  703. 

62.  Of  Olympus  as  the  home  of  the  gods,  we  have  the  Homeric 
conception  given  in  the  Odyssey,  vi.,  53-60  (Bryant). 
.  63.    Wound.     Pope  probably  pronounced  "wownd." 

64.  Note  the  onomatopoetic  and  alliterative  effects  in  this  and  fol- 
lowing lines.  To  what  extent  does  Pope  resort  to  such  figures  in 
Book  i.  ? 

65,  66.  A  faulty  enlargement  upon  Homer's  "  and  he  descended  like 
to  night;"  it  misses  the  suggestion  of  his  stealthy,  fateful  descent. 

73.  Pyres,  funeral  pyres.  The  Greeks  cremated  their  dead. 
Why  ?    Contrast  the  practice  of  the  Egyptians. 


8 


THE  ILIAD 


But  ere  the  tenth  revolving  day  was  run, 

Inspir'd  by  Juno,  Thetis'  god-like  son  l^ 

Convened  to  council  all  the  Grecian  train  ; 

For  much  the  goddess  mourn'd  her  heroes  slain. 

Th'  assembly  seated,  rising  o'er  the  rest, 
Achilles  thus  the  king  of  men  address'd  : 

'^  Why  leave  we  not  the  fatal  Trojan  shore. 
And  measure  back  the  seas  we  cross'd  before  ?  80 

The  plague  destroying  whom  the  sword  would  spare, 
'Tis  time  to  save  tlie  few  remains  of  war. 
But  let  some  prophet  or  some  sacred  sage 
Explore  the  cause  of  great  Apollo's  rage ; 
Or  learn  tlie  wasteful  vens^eance  to  remove 
By  mystic  dreams,  for  dreams  descend  from  Jove. 
If  broken  vows  this  heavy  curse  have  laid, 
Let  altars  smoke  and  hecatombs  be  paid. 
So  heav'n  aton'd  shall  dying  Greece  restore. 
And  Fhcebusdart  his  burning  shafts  no  morc.^'  90 

He  said,  and  sat :  when  Chalcas  thus  replied, 
Chalcas  the  wise,  the  Grecian  priest  and  guide, 

74.  Jam  (Greek,  Jlera).  Jupiter's  wife  ;  she  sided  with  the  Greeks. 
Paris  had  caused  her  enmity  and  Minerva's  by  bestowing  the  gohlen 
apple  upon  \^eniis,  as  the  fairest  goddess  of  the  three.     See  xxiv., 

f;38-41.     Thetis's  god-like  son,  Achilles.     The  phrase,  not  given  in 
'^  Homer,  lielps  out  Pope's  rhyme. 

75.  Council,  assembly  (Agora)  of  the  free  men,  for  discussion  ;  it 
gave  opportunities  for  oratorical  display,  which  the  Greeks  enjoyed. 

82.  War.  Note  the  faulty  rhyme  ;  merely  an  assonance.  This  is 
not  tlie  first  poor  rhyme.     Are  there  many  in  tliis  book  ? 

84.  Explore,  in  the  Latin  sense  of  search  out,  inquire  into. 

83.  Wasteful,  wasting  ;  causing  waste. 

88.  Ilecatomh,  literally,  the  sacrifice  of  a  hundred  oxen  ;  but 
applied  to  sacrilices  generally. 

89.  Construction  ?  Atoned,  reconciled;  propitiated.  "  Atone"  is 
made  up  of  at-one  =  set  at  one.  Pope  keeps  to  the  original  mean- 
ing.    Contrast  current  usage. 

92.  Homer  is  more  definite  and  explanatory.  Calchas  is  "most 
excellent  far  of  augurs,  who  knew  both  things  that  were,  and  that 


BOOK  I 


1/ 


That  sacred  seer,  whose  comprehensive  view 
The  past,  the  present,  and  the  future  knew  : 
Uprising  slow,  the  venerable  sage 
Thus  spoke  the  prudence  and  the  fears  of  a^e  : 

''  Belov'd  of  Jove,  Achilles  !  wouldst  thou  know 
ΑνΊιν  angry  Phcebus  bends  his  fatal  bow  ? 
First  give  thy  faith,  and  plight  a  princess  word 
Of  sure  protection,  by  tliy  pow'r  and  sword.  100 

For  I  must  speak  what  wisdom  would  conceal. 
And  truths  invidious  to  the  great  reveal. 
Bold  is  the  task,  when  subjects,  grown  too  wise. 
Instruct  a  monarch  where  his  error  lies  • 
For  though  we  deem  the  short-liv'd  fury  past, 
'Tis  sure,  the  mighty  will  revenge  at  last.'' 

To  whom  Pelides  :  ''  From  thy  inmost  soul 
Speak  what  tliou  know'st,  and  speak  without  control. 
Ev'n  by  that  god  I  swear,  who  rules  the  day. 
To  whom  thy  hands  the  vows  of  Greece  convey,  110 

And  whose  blest  oracles  thy  lips  declare  : 
Long  as  Achilles  breatlies  this  vital  air. 
No  daring  Greek,  of  all  the  numerous  band. 
Against  his  priest  shall  lift  an  impious  hand  ; 
Kot  ev'n  the  chief  by  whom  our  hosts  are  led. 
The  king  of  kings,  shall  touch  that  sacred  head/' 

Encourag'd  thus,  the  blameless  man  replies  : 
''Nor  vows  unpaid,  nor  slighted  sacrifice. 
But  he,  our  chief,  provok'd  the  raging  pest, 
Apollo's  vengeance  for  his  injured  priest.  120 

Nor  will  the  god's  awaken'd  fury  cease. 
But  plagues  shall  spread,  and  fun'ral  fires  increase, 

sliould  be,  and  had  been  before,  and  guided  the  ships  of  the  Ach.-e- 
ans  to  Ilios  by  his  soothsaying  that  Phoebus  Apollo  bestowed  on 
him." 

108.  Control,  restraint  ;  reserve. 

116.  Note  how  at  the  outset  the  figure  of  Achilles  overtops  that  of 
Agamemnon,  and  becomes  of  pivotal  importance.  His  first  speeches 
reveal  chiefly  his  proud,  self-confident,  fiery  character. 


10 


THE  ILIAD 


Till  the  great  king,  without  a  ransom  paid. 
To  her  own  Chrysa  send  the  black-ey'd  maid. 
Perhaps,  with  added  sacrifice  and  pray'r, 
The  priest  may  pardon,  and  the  god  may  spare/^ 

Tlie  prophet  spoke  ;  when,  with  a  gloomy  frown. 
The  monarch  started  from  his  shining  throne  ; 
Black  choler  fill'd  his  breast  that  boil'd  with  ire. 
And  from  his  eye-balls  ilasti'd  the  living  fire. 
"  Augur  accurs'd  !  denouncing  mischief  still, 
Prophet  of  plagues,  for  ever  boding  ill  I 
Still  must  that  tongue  some  wounding  message  bring. 
And  still  thy  priestly  pride  provoke  thy  king? 
For  this  are  Phoebus'  oracles  explor'd, 
To  teach  the  Greeks  to  murmur  at  their  lord  ? 
For  this  with  falsehoods  is  my  honour  stain'd. 
Is  heaven  offended  and  a  priest  profan'd, 
Because  my  prize,  my  beauteous  maid,  I  hold, 
And  heavenly  charms  prefer  to  proffer'd  gold  ? 
A  maid,  unmatched  in  manners  as  in  face, 
Skilled  in  each  art,  and  crown'd  with  every  grace  : 
Not  half  so  dear  were  Clytiemnestra's  charms, 
AVhen  first  her  blooming  beauties  bless'd  my  arms. 
Yet,  if  the  gods  demand  her,  let  her  sail : 
Our  cares  are  only  for  the  public  weal : 


130 


140 


^1 


P" 


124.  Black-eyed.     Should  be  "  bright-eyed." 

129.  Choler,  literally,  bile  {cf.  cholera,  melancholy,  etc.)  In  anger 
the  veins  swell,  as  if  with  black  blood. 

131.  Pope,  although  very  free,  is  very  spirited  in  these  lines,  and, 
indeed,  in  most  of  the  speeches.    lie  sacrifices  accuracy  for  animation. 

141.  Here,  again,  we  have  Pope's  rhetorical  tinsel.  Note  the 
abundant  alliterations,  especially  in  141  and  144. 

143.  Clytemnestra,  his  wife,  Helen's  sister,  whom  he  had  left 
behind. at  Mycen»  during  his  absence.  She  was  faithless  to  him, 
and,  with  the  aid  of  her  paramour,  murdered  him  on  his  return. 
Tlie  murder  was  avenged  by  her  son  Orestes,  who  slew  his  mother. 
These,  and  other  dark  deeds  of  the  royal  houses  concerned  in  tlie 
Trojan  War.  form  the  subject  of  some  of  the  great  Greek  dramas  of 
a  later  age. 


I 


BOOK  I  11 

Let  me  be  deem'd  the  hateful  cause  of  all. 

And  suffer,  rather  than  my  people  fall. 

The  prize,  the  beauteous  prize,  I  will  resign, 

So  dearly  valued,  and  so  justly  mine.  150 

But  since  for  common  good  1  yield  the  fair. 

My  private  loss  let  grateful  Greece  repair ; 

Nor  unrewarded  let  your  prince  complain. 

That  he  alone  has  fought  and  bled  in  vain.^' 

''Insatiate  king  !  "  (Achilles  thus  replies) 
''Fond  of  the  pow'r,  but  fonder  of  the  prize  ! 
AVouldst  thou  the  Greeks  their  lawful  prey  should  yield. 
The  due  reward  of  many  a  well-fouglit  field  ? 
The  spoils  of  cities  raz\l  and  warriors  slain. 
We  share  with  justice,  as  with  toil  we  gain  :  160 

But  to  resume  whate'er  thy  av'rice  craves 
(That  trick  of  tyrants)  may  be  borne  by  slaves. 
Yet  if  our  chief  for  plunder  only  fight. 
The  spoils  of  Ilion  shall  thy  loss  requite. 
Whene'er,  by  Jove's  decree,  our  conquering  j^ow'n 
Shall  humble  to  the  dust  her  lofty  tow'rs.'' 

Then  thus  the  king  :  '*  Shall  I  my  prize  resign 
With  tame  content,  and  thou  possessed  of  thine  ? 
Great  as  thou  art,  and  like  a  god  in  fight, 


•s 


rn 


Think  not  to  rob  me  of  a  soldier's  right. 


170 


154.  We  must  beware  of  over-emphasizing,  as  Achilles  does  in  his 
next  speech,  the  seeming  selfishness  and  avarice  of  Agamemnon. 
"It  is,"  says  Leaf,  "in  the  public  gifts,  which  are  the  signs  of  pre- 
eminence, that  the  'point  of  honor'  lies  ;  to  lose  such  a  meed  of 
honor  is  a  disgrace  as  w^ell  as  a  material  loss.  So  Achilles  himself 
requires  (xxiv.,  175)  that  if  he  is  to  give  up  the  body  of  Hector,  he 
shall  receive  the  ransom  ;  by  doing  so  he  does  not  diminish  the  grace 
of  his  act,  but  only  saves  himself  from  the  reproach  of  weakness. 
It  is  important  that  this  should  be  kept  in  view  throughout  the 
Iliad." 

155.  Pope  takes  great  liberties  with  the  original  in  this  speech. 
IGO.  Quite  un-llomeric  in  its  curt  sententiousness.     The  next  two 

lines  are  interpolations. 

161.  liesume.     In  its  Latin  sense,  take  again  or  back. 


aS».Bi  J'-tBjJn-.i.nteJA  j,=-  ■  MJ.■^■ί»^^|^jia^-^ibJv-Jlu...-.^■.■lJ.AJi3a?Leiί^ί:taiι^^^     ..>.  —  λ.^^ ..,■■.. 


7  f 


12 


THE  ILIAD 


i 


At  thy  demand  shall  I  restore  the  maid  ? 
First  let  the  just  equivalent  be  paid  ; 
Such  as  a  king  might  ask ;  and  let  it  be 
A  treasure  worthy  her  and  worthy  me. 
Or  grant  me  this,  or  with  a  monarch's  claim 
This  hand  shall  seize  some  other  captive  dame. 
The  mighty  Ajax  shall  his  prize  resign, 
Ulysses'  spoils,  or  ev'n  thy  own,  be  mine. 
The  man  who  suffers,  loudly  may  complain ; 
And  rage  he  may,  but  he  shall  rage  in  vain. 
But  this  when  time  requires— it  now  remains 
We  launch  a  bark  to  plough  the  wat'ry  plains, 
And  waft  the  sacrifice  to  Chrysa's  shores, 
With  chosen  pilots  and  with  lab'ring  oars. 
Soon  shall  the  fair  the  sable  ship  ascend, 
And  some  deputed  prince  the  charge  attend  ; 
This  Greta's  king  or  Ajax  shall  fulfiU- 
Or  wise  Ulysses  see  performed  our  will ; 
Or,  if  our  royal  pleasure  shall  ordain, 
Achilles'  self  conduct  her  o'er  the  main  ; 
Let  fierce  Achilles,  dreadful  in  his  rage, 
The  god  propitiate  and  the  pest  assuage." 

At  this,  Pelides,  frowning  stern,  replied  : 
"  0  tyrant,  arm'd  with  insolence  and  pride  ! 
Inglorious  slave  to  int'rest,  ever  join'd 
With  fraud,  unworthy  of  a  royal  mind  ! 
What  generous  Greek,  obedient  to  thy  word. 
Shall  form  an  ambush  or  shall  lift  the  sword  ? 


180 


11)0 


or.    See 


175.  The  two  or's  were  commonly  used  for  either    .    . 
also  vi.,  557  ;  xxii.,  311,  312. 

177.  AJaXy  the  bravest  warrior  after  Achilles,  whose  cousin  he 
was.  He  was  of  great  size  and  strength,  and  became  the  "  bulwark 
of  the  Achaeans  "  after  Achilles'  retirement. 

187.  Cretans  king,  Idomeneus,  one  of  the  bravest  and  oldest  of  the 

Greek  leaders. 
I     194.  Pope  is  again  very  animated  in  this  outbreak  of  invective. 
\fee  and  his  contemporarios  were  well  schooled  in  this  manner. 


yy 


210 


BOOK  I 

What  cause  have  I  to  war  at  thy  decree  ? 

The  distant  Trojans  never  injur'd  me  : 

To  Phthia's  realms  no  hostile  troops  they  led  • 

Safe  in  her  vales  my  warlike  coursers  fed  ; 

Far  hence  remov'd,  the  hoarse-resounding  main 

And  walls  of  rocks  secure  my  native  reign. 

Whose  fruitful  soil  luxuriant  harvests  grace, 

liich  in  her  fruits  and  in  her  martial  race. 

Hither  we  sail'd,  a  voluntary  throng, 

Τ  avenge  a  private,  not  a  public  wrong  : 

AVhat  else  to  Troy  th'  assembl'd  nations  draws. 

But  thine,  ungrateful,  and  thy  brother's  cause  ? 

Is  this  the  pay  our  blood  and  toils  deserve, 

Disgrac'd  and  injur'd  by  the  man  we  serve  ? 

And  dar'st  thou  threat  to  snatch  my  prize  away. 

Due  to  the  deeds  of  many  a  dreadful  day  ; 

A  prize  as  small,  0  tyrant  !  matclied  with  thine. 

As  thy  own  actions  if  compared  to  mine  ! 

Thine  in  each  conquest  is  the  wealthy  prey; 

Though  mine  the  sweat  and  danger  of  the  day. 

Some  trivial  present  to  my  ships  I  bear, 

Or  barren  praises  pay  the  wounds  of  war. 

But  know,  proud  monarch,  I'm  thy  slave  no  more  ; 

My  fleet  shall  waft  me  to  Thessalia's  shore. 

Left  by  Achilles  on  the  Trojan  plain, 

IVhat  spoils,  what  conquests,  shall  Atrides  gain  ? 

^  ^  To  this  the  king  :  *'  Fly,  mighty  warrior,  flv  I 

Thy  aid  we  need  not  and  thy  threats  defy. 


201    Phihia.     Chief  city  of  Tliessaly,  where  lived  Peleus,  Achilles 
and  the  ^lyrmidons  whom  Achilles  ruled  and  led  against  Troy 

-03.  The  horse  is  especially  associated  with  Thessaly,  and  its  wild 
scenery  of  woodlands  and  hills. 

203.  Achilles'  thoughts  revert,  with  a  touch  of  longing,  to  his 
native  glens. 

210.  What  is  the  syntax  of  ungrateful? 

217,  218.  The  un-IIomeric  antithesis  again.     Many  more  may  be 


13 


200 


220 


« 


ashte^•  ^•■-  -^'M^in^^-.i^i^jijijjij^ 


14 


THE  ILTAD 


BOOK  I 


15 


There  want  not  chiefs  in  such  a  cause  to  fight, 

And  Jove  himself  shall  guard  a  monarch's  right. 

Of  all  the  kings  (the  gods'  distinguished  care) 

To  pow'r  superior  none  such  hatred  bear  :  230 

Strife  and  debate  thy  restless  soul  employ. 

And  wars  and  horrors  are  thy  savage  joy. 

If  thou   hast   strength,    'twas  Ileav'n  that  strength  be- 

stow'd. 
For  know,  vain  man  !  thy  valour  is  from  God. 
liaste,  launch  thy  vessels,  fly  with  speed  away, 
Kule  thy  own  realms  with  arbitrary  sway  : 
I  heed  thee  not,  but  prize  at  equal  rate 
Thy  short-liv'd  friendship  and  thy  groundless  hate. 
Go,  threat  thy  earth-born  Myrmidons  ;  but  here 
'Tis  mine  to  threaten,  prince,  and  thine  to  fear.  240 

Know,  if  the  god  the  beauteous  dame  demand, 
My  bark  shall  waft  her  to  her  native  land  ; 
But  then  prepare,  imperious  prince  !  prepare. 
Fierce  as  thou  art,  to  yield  thy  captive  fair : 
Ev'n  in  thy  tent  I'll  seize  the  blooming  prize. 
Thy  lov'd  Brise'is  with  the  radiant  eyes. 
Hence  shalt  thou  prove  my  might,  and  curse  the  hour 
Thou  stood'st  a  rival  of  imperial  pow'r  ; 
And  hence  to  all  our  host  it  shall  be  known 
That  kings  are  subject  to  the  gods  alone."  250 

Achilles  lieard,  with  grief  and  rage  oppress'd  ; 
His  heart  swell'd  high  and  laboured  in  his  breast. 
Distracting  thoughts  by  turns  his  bosom  rul'd, 
Now  fir'd  by  wrath,  and  now  by  reason  cooFd  : 

228,  229.  These  lines,  taken  in  connection  with  250,  368,  369, 
bring'out  the  Homeric  idea  of  the  divine  calhng  and  power  of 
kini^s,  as  being  the  delegates  of  the  divine  king,  Jove.  The  kings 
were  generally  regarded  as  descended  from  a  god  or  demi-god,  and 
ruled  by  both  hereditary  and  divine  right.  This  helps  to  explain 
the  loftv  attitude  of  Agamemnon.  ^^ 

239.   Threat.     The  prose  has,  **  lord  it  among  thy  Myrmidons. 

246.  Homer  speaks  of  Brisels  **  of  the  fair  cheeks." 


That  prompts  his  hand  to  draw  the  deadly  sword, 

Force  through  the  Greeks,  and  pierce  their  haughty  lord  ; 

This  whispers  soft,  his  vengeance  to  control. 

And  calm  the  rising  tempest  of  his  soul. 

Just  as  in  anguish  of  suspense  he  stay'd, 

While  half  unsheath'd  appeared  the  glittVing  blade,     260 

Minerva  swift  descended  from  above. 

Sent  by  the  sister  and  the  wife  of  Jove 

(For  both  the  princes  claim'd  her  equal  care) ; 

Behind  she  stood,  and  by  the  golden  hair 

Achilles  seiz'd  ;  to  him  alone  confessed, 

A  sable  cloud  conceai'd  her  from  the  rest. 

He  sees,  and  sudden  to  the  goddess  cries. 

Known  by  the  flames  that  sparkle  from  her  eyes  : 

**  Descends  Minerva  in  her  guardian  care, 
A  heav'nly  witness  of  the  wrongs  I  bear  270 

From  Atreus'  son  ?     Then  let  those  eyes  that  view 
The  daring  crime,  behold  the  vengeance  too/' 

'*  Forbear  !  "  (the  progeny  of  Jove  replies) 
*'  To  calm  thy  fury  I  forsake  the  skies : 
Let  great  Achilles,  to  the  gods  resigned. 
To  reason  yield  the  empire  o'er  his  mind. 
By  awful  Juno  this  command  is  giv'n  ; 
The  king  and  you  are  both  the  care  of  heav'n. 
The  force  of  keen  reproaches  let  him  feel. 
But  sheath,  obedient,  thy  revenging  steel.  280 

255,  257.  What  is  the  force  of  the  demonstratives  that  and  this  ? 

261.  3Jinerva  (Greek,  Athene).  The  most  interesting  of  the  god- 
desses, and  the  most  spiritualized.  "She  is  a  true  impersonation 
of  the  logos  or  reason  "  (Gladstone,  see  Primer,  G8-72).  Here  she 
appeals  to  the  rational  side  of  Achilles'  nature  against  the  passion- 
ate. She  is  devoted  to  the  Greeks,  and  is  the  personal  protectress 
of  Achilles  in  the  Iliad,  as  she  is  of  Ulysses  in  the  Odyssey. 

265.  Confessed,  revealed,  acknowledged  herself.  The  word  is  used 
in  different  senses.     Cf.  i.,  528;  vi.,  23G,  xxii.,  14. 

266.  The  sable  cloud  is  Pope's  handiwork. 

278.  Juno,  like  her  lord  Jupiter,  is  not  fiercely  partisan.  She 
works  quietly  for  the  Greeks. 


aiilg'.»j.jafmfj»j• 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  I 


17 


?i 


i9 


290 


For  I  pronounce  (and  trust  a  beav'nly  pow'rj 
Thy  injur'd  honour  lias  its  fated  hour, 
When  the  proud  monarch  shall  thy  arms  implore. 
And  bribe  thy  friendship  with  a  boundless  store. 
Then  let  revenge  no  longer  bear  the  sway, 
Command  thy  passions,  and  the  gods  obey. 

To  her  Pel  ides  :  '*  With  regardful  ear, 
^Tis  just,  0  goddess  !  I  thy  dictates  hear. 
Hard  as  it  is,  my  vengeance  I  suppress  : 
Those  who  revere  the  gods,  the  gods  will  bless.' 
He  said,  observant  of  the  blue-ey'd  maid  ; 
Then  in  the  sheath  return'd  the  shining  blade. 
The  goddess  swift  to  high  Olympus  flies. 
And  joins  the  sacred  senate  of  the  skies. 

Nor  yet  the  rageliis  boiling  breast  forsook, 
Which  thus  redoubling  on  Atrides  broke  : 
"  0  monster  !  mix'd  of  insolence  and  fear, 
Thou  dog  in  forehead,  but  in  heart  a  deer  ! 
When  wert  thou  known  in  ambush'd  figlits  to  dare. 
Or  nobly  face  the  horrid  fxQiit  of  war  ? 
^Tis  ours  the  chance  of  fighting  fields  to  try  ; 
Thine  to  look  on  and  bid  the  valiant  die. 
So  much  "'tis  safer  through  the  camp  to  go. 
And  rob  a  subject,  than  despoil  a  foe. 
Scourge  of  thy  people,  violent  and  base  ! 
Sent  in  Jove^s  anger  oa  a  slavish  race. 


281,  284.  Pope  makes  the  goddess  too  commtinicativo.  Slie  simply 
promises  "goodly  gifts  in  threefold  measure.'* 

294.  Why  is  the  sacred  senate  objectionable  ?  Cf.  shining  spiod 
in  090. 

298.  Pope  does  well  enough  here  with  Homer's  plain  speaking, 
although  he  so  often  tries  to  make  Homer's  coarseness  respectable.  It 
is  well-known  how,  when  Ajax  is  calle^l  an  ass,  Pope  takes  refuge  in 
the  labored  periphrasis :  "The  slow  beast  with  heavy  strength  endued." 

299.  The  ambmKd  fight  was  the  test  of  the  warrior.  The  bravest 
were  selected  for  it. 

300.  Horrid,  in  the  Latin  sense  of  dreadful;  occasionally  used  in 
other  senses.     (7/.  vi,  830. 


300 


Who,  lost  to  sense  of  generous  freedom  past. 

Are  taniM  to  wrongs,  or  this  had  been  thy  last. 

Now  by  this  sacred  sceptre  hear  me  swear. 

Which  never  more  shall  leaves  or  blossoms  bear, 

AVhich,  sever'd  from  the  trunk  (as  I  from  thee) 

Ou  the  bare  mountains  left  its  parent  tree  ; 

This  sceptre,  form'd  by  temper'd  steel  to  prove 

An  ensign  of  the  delegates  of  Jove, 

From  Λνΐιοηι  the  pow'r  of  laws  and  justice  springs 

(Tremendous  oath  !  inviolate  to  kings)  : 

By  this  1  swear,  Avhen  bleeding  Greece  again 

Shall  call  Achilles,  she  shall  call  in  vain. 

When,  flush'd  with  slaughter.  Hector  comes  to  spread 

The  purpled  shore  with  mountains  of  the  dead. 

Then  shalt  thou  mourn  th'  affront  thy  madness  gavo, 

Forc'd  to  deplore,  when  impotent  to  save  : 

Then  rage  in  bitterness  of  soul,  to  know 

This  act  has  made  the  bravest  Greek  thy  foe.'^ 

He  spoke  ;  and  furious  hurFd  against  the  ground 
His  sceptre  starr'd  with  golden  studs  around  ; 
Then  sternly  silent  sat.     With  like  disdain, 
'^^^^  raging  king  return'd  his  frowns  again. 

To  calm  their  passion  with  the  words  of  age. 
Slow  from  liis  seat  arose  the  Pylian  sage. 
Experienced  Nestor,  in  persuasion  skill'd  ; 
Words  sweet  as  honey  from  his  lips  distill'd  : 


310 


320 


330 


309.  Sacred  sceptre,  one  passed  by  the  heralds  to  the  recognized 
speaker  in  the  Assembly,  as  a  sign* that  he  "held  the  floor."  He 
returned  it  Λvhen  his  speech  was  done. 

313.  Temper' d  steel,  axe, 

314.  315.  Literally,  "  those  who  by  Zeus'  command  watch  over  the 
traditions."  Not  "  laws,"  for  there  were  none  ;  Homer  has  no  such 
word.  The  king  is  delegated  by  Zeus  to  uphold  the  "dooms"  or 
I'udgments,  sacred  customs,  or  judicial  precedents  on  which  the 
rights  of  his  people  rested.     See  Introduction,  p.  xxv.,  "Themis." 

331.  Nestor,  "  clear- voiced  orator  of  the  Pylians."  Pylos  was  in 
the  Peloponnesus. 


fi 


ί 


18 


ΤΙΤΕ  ILIAD 


t. 


Two  generations  now  had  passVl  away. 

Wise  by  his  rules  and  happy  by  his  sway ; 

Two  ages  o'er  liis  native  realm  he  reign'd. 

And  now  th'  example  of  the  third  remain'd. 

All  view^'d  with  awe  the  venerable  man. 

Who  thus  with  mild  benevolence  beoran  : 

'*  What  shame,  what  woe  is  this  to  Greece  !  what  joy 

To  Troy's  proud  monarch  and  the  friends  of  Troy  !     3:40 

That  adverse  gods  commit  to  stern  debate 

The  best,  the  bravest  of  the  Grecian  state. 

Young  as  ye  are,  this  youthful  heat  restrain, 

ϊίοΓ  think  your  Nestor's  years  and  wisdom  vain. 

A  godlike  race  of  heroes  once  I  knew. 

Such  as  no  more  these  aged  eyes  shall  view  ! 

Lives  there  a  chief  to  match  Pirithous'  fame, 

Dryas  the  bold,  or  Ceneus'  deathless  name  ; 

Theseus,  endued  with  more  than  mortal  might, 

Or  Polyphemus,  like  the  gods  in  fight  ?  350 

With  these  of  old  to  toils  of  battle  bred. 

In  early  youth  my  hardy  days  I  led, 

Fir'd  with  the  thirst  which  virtuous  envy  breeds. 

And  smit  with  love  of  honourable  deeds. 

Strongest  of  men,  they  pierc'd  the  mountain  boar, 

Eang'd  the  wild  deserts  red  with  monsters'  gore, 

And  from  their  hills  the  shaggy  Centaurs  tore. 

Yet  these  with  soft  persuasive  arts  I  sway'd  ; 

When  Nestor  spoke,  they  listen'd  and  obey'd. 

If  in  my  youth,  ev'n  these  esteem'd  me  wise,  360 

Do  you,  young  warriors,  hear  my  age  advise. 

347-357.  Pirithous,  ruler  of  the  Lapitha»,  a  mythical  people  of 
Thessaly.  The  passage  relates  to  the  legendary  conflict  of  the 
Lapitha3  and  the  Centaurs,  who  claimed  a  right  in  the  kingdom  of 
Pirithous,  their  half-brother.  The  Centaurs  of  Tlomer  are  simply  a 
wild,  savage  people,  not  the  symbolical,  semi-equine  creatures  of 
later  fable.  Dryas,  Ceneus,  and  Polyphemus  were  LapithiP.  The- 
seus, the  legendary  hero  of  Athens,  was  the  friend  of  Pirithous,  and 
helped  him  against  the  Cenlauis  (Gayley,  267).  Polyphemus  should 
not.  be  confused  with  the  famous  Cyclops. 


BOOK  I 


19 


Atrides,  seize  not  on  the  beauteous  slave ; 

That  prize  the  Greeks  by  common  suffrage  gave  : 

Nor  thou,  Achilles,  treat  our  prince  with  pride ; 

Let  kings  be  just,  and  sovereign  pow'r  preside. 

Thee  the  first  honours  of  the  war  adorn. 

Like  gods  in  strength  and  of  a  goddess  born  ; 

Ilim  awful  majesty  exalts  above 

The  pow'rs  of  earth  and  sceptred  sons  of  Jove. 

Let  both  unite  with  well-consenting  mind,  370 

So  shall  authority  with  strength  be  join'd. 

Leave  me,  0  king  !  to  calm  Achilles'  rage  ; 

Kule  thou  thyself,  as  more  advanc'd  in  age. 

Forbid  it,  gods !  Achilles  should  be  lost, 

The  pride  of  Greece  and  bulwark  of  our  host." 

This  said,  he  ceas'd.     The  king  of  men  replies : 
**  Thy  years  are  awful  and  thy  words  are  wise. 
But  that  imperious,  that  unconquer'd  soul, 
No  laws  can  limit,  no  respect  control  : 
Before  his  pride  must  his  superiors  fall,  380 

His  word  the  law,  and  he  the  lord  of  all  ? 
Him  must  our  hosts,  our  chiefs,  ourself  obey  ? 
AVhat  king  can  bear  a  rival  in  his  sway  ? 
Grant  that  the  gods  his  matchless  force  have  giv'n  ; 
Has  foul  reproach  a  privilege  from  heav'n  ?" 

Here  on  the  monarch's  speech  Achilles  broke. 
And  furious,  thus,  and  interrupting,  spoke  : 
''  Tyrant,  I  well  deserv'd  thy  galling  chain. 
To  live  thy  slave,  and  still  to  serve  in  vain. 
Should  I  submit  to  each  unjust  decree  :  390 

Command  thy  vassals,  but  command  not  me. 
Seize  on  Brisei's,  whom  the  Grecians  doom'd 
My  prize  of  war,  yet  tamely  see  resum'd ; 
And  seize  secure ;  no  more  Achilles  draws 
His  conqu'ring  sword  in  any  woman's  cause. 

371.  Joined.     Pronounced  in  Pope's  time  *'jined,"a  pronuncia- 
tion that  still  is  heard  hero  and  there.     Cf.  vi.,  ;>29. 


20 


THE  ILIAD 


The  gods  coniniuiid  me  to  forgive  the  past  ; 

l^iit  let  this  first  invasion  be  tiie  last : 

For  know,  thy  blood,  when  next  thou  dar'st  invade, 

Shall  stream  in  vengeance  on  mv  reekins:  blade/' 

At  this  they  ceas'd  ;  the  stern  debate  expir'd  :  400 

The  chiefs  in  sullen  majesty  retir'd. 

Afhilles  with  Patroclus  took  his  way, 
A\  here  near  liis  tents  his  hollow  vessels  lay. 
Meantime  Atrides  launched  with  num'rous  oars 
A  well-rigg'd  ship  for  Chrysa's  sacred  shores  : 
High  on  the  deck  was  fair  Chrysei's  placed, 
And  sage  ITlysses  with  the  conduct  grac'd  : 
Safe  in  her  sides  the  hecatomb  thev  stow'd. 
Then,  swiftly  sailing,  cut  the  Ii(j|uid  road.^^ 

The  host  to  expiate  next  the  king  prepares,  410 

With  pure  lustrations  and  with  solemn  pray'rs. 
Wash'd  by  the  briny  wave,  the  pious  train 
Are  cleans'd  ;  and  cast  th'  ablutions  in  the  main. 
Along  the  shores  whole  hecatombs  were  laid. 
And  bulls  and  goats  to  Pha^lTus'  altars  paid. 
The  sable  fumes  in  curling  spires  arise, 
And  waft  their  grateful  odours  to  the  skies. 

The  army  thus  in  sacred  rites  engagM, 
Atrides  still  with  deep  resentment  rag'd. 
To  wait  his  will  two  sacred  heralds  stood,  4:^0 

Talthybius  and  Eurybates  the  good. 
"'Haste  to  the  fierce  Achilles'  tent"  (he  cries); 
*' Thence  bear  Briseis  as  our  royal  prize  : 

403.  The  frieiidslu'p  of  Aeliilles  aiul  Patfoclus  is  one  of  tlie  splen- 
did friendsliips  of  lilerature.  Do  you  know  of  any  others  to  be  com- 
pared with  it  ?    Cf.  note  on  xxiv.,  740. 

407.  Explain  conduct  graced. 

410.  llow  accent? 

410-41;;  l'.{>e  embroiders  again.  The  sea  was  regarded  by  the 
Greeks  as  a  great  ceremonial  purifier.  Probably  the  voyagers  had 
during  the  pestilence  abstained  from  ablution,  and  had  cast  dust  on 
their  heads  in  sign  of  mourning  (Leaf). 


BOOK  I 


21 


Submit  he  must ;  or,  if  they  Λνϋΐ  not  part, 
Ourself  in  arms  shall  tear  her  from  his  heart." 

Th'  unwilling  heralds  act  their  lord's  commands  ; 
Pensive  they  walk  along  the  barren  sands  : 
Arriv'd,  the  hero  in  his  tent  they  find. 
With  gloomy  aspect,  on  his  arm  reclin'd. 
At  awful  distance  long  they  silent  stand,  430 

Loth  to  advance  or  speak  their  hard  command  ; 
Decent  confusion  !     This  the  godlike  man 
Perceiv'd,  and  thus  with  accent  mild  began  : 

**^  With  leave  and  honour  enter  our  abodes. 
Ye  sacred  ministers  of  men  and  gods  I 
1  know  your  message  ;  by  constraint  you  came  ; 
^'ot  you,  but  your  imperious  lord,  I  blame. 
Patroclus,  haste,  the  fair  Briseis  bring ; 
Conduct  my  captive  to  the  haughty  king. 
But  witness,  heralds,  and  proclaim  my  vow,  440 

AVitness  to  gods  above  and  men  below  I 
But  first  and  loudest  to  your  prince  declare. 
That  lawless  tyrant  whose  commands  you  bear ; 
Unmov'd  as  death  Achilles  shall  remain. 
Though  prostrate  Greece  should  bleed  at  ev'ry  vein  : 
The  raging  chief  in  frantic  passion  lost, 
Blind  to  himself  and  useless  to  his  host, 
Unskiird  to  judge  the  future  by  the  past, 
In  blood  and  slaughter  shall  repent  at  last." 

427.  How  many  Homeric  touches  we  miss  in  Pope  !  The  prose 
version  reads,  "Unwillingly  they  went  along  the  beach  of  the  un- 
vintaged  sea."     Homer  has  other  suggestive  epithets  for  the  sea. 

430.  Awful.  That  is,  indicative  of  awe.  Tlie  suflix  "-ful"  is 
continually  used  in  this  primitive  way  by  Pope. 

432.  Decent,  becoming,  comely;  as  in  Milton's  "  Over  thy  decent 
shoulders  drawn,"  11  Penseroso,  36;  or  Goldsmith's  "The  decent 
church  that  topt  the  neighboring  hill,"  Deserted  Village,  12. 

434.  Note  tiie  change  of  tone  here.     What  significance  has  it  ? 

435.  The  heralds  in  Homer's  lime,  as  later,  were  greatly  respected, 
and  their  persons  liehl  inviolable. 

445.  Forcibly  put,  but  it  is  not  Homer. 


l«lj.*'fytltlrfliij!if>''°'..frf>rfMaJarifj<VMitSMBit^vJfji.J».n^^ 


\ 


22 


THE  TLTAT) 


Patroclns  now  th'  unwilliiig  beauty  brought ;  450 

She,  ill  soft  sorrows  nnd  in  pensive  thought, 
Pass'd  silent,  as  the  heralds  held  her  hand, 
And  oft  look'd  back,  slow-moving  o'er  the  strand. 

Xot  so  his  loss  the  fierce  Achilles  bore; 
But  sad  retiring  to  the  sounding  shore. 
O'er  the  wild  margin  of  the  deep  he  hung, 
That  kindred  deep  from  wlience  his  mother  sprung; 
Tliere,  bath'd  in  tears  of  anger  and  disdain. 
Thus  loud  lamented  to  the  stormy  main  : 

"  0  piirent  goddess  !  since  in  early  bloom  4C0 

Thy  son  must  fall,  by  too  severe  a  doom  ; 
Sure,  to  so  short  a  race  of  glory  born, 
Great  Jove  in  justice  should  this  span  adorn. 
Honour  and  fame  at  least  tlie  Thund'rer  owed. 
And  ill  he  pays  the  promise  of  a  god, 

453.  And  oft  look'd  hack,  etc.  A  picturesque  amplification  of 
Homer's,  "  And  with  them  went  the  woman  all  unwilling."  Pope  is 
said  to  have  derived  this  from  a  Frencli  version. 

454-459.  As  to  this  passage,  see  Introduction,  p.  xliv. 

460.  There  is  a  charming,  child-like  simplicity  about  the  speeches 
between  Achilles  and  his  mother. 

461.  Cf.  i.,  543-545.     The  doom  is  stated  in  Book  ix. : 

"  My  fates  long  since  by  Thetis  were  disclos'd, 
And  each  alternate,  life  or  fame,  i)ropos'd  ; 
Here  if  I  stay  before  the  Trojan  town, 
Short  is  ray  date,  but  deathless  my  renown  : 
If  I  return,  I  quit  immortal  praise 
For  years  on  years  and  long-extended  days.'' 

It  is  this  impending  doom  hanging  over  Achilles,  Hector,  Ulysses, 
that  supi'lies  the  note  of  tragedy  and  patlios  in  the  epics,  and'leads 
Mr.  Lang  to  say  that  Homer's  tlieory  of  life  might  l)e  called  melan- 
choly. Homer's  heroes  do  not  flinch  before  the  last  awards  of  Fate, 
the  calamities  and  bitterness  of  life  ;  they  '*are  fortified  against  all 
vicissitude."  ''His  Achilles  is  the  type  of  triumphant  youth  ;  but 
of  youth  with  sheer  doom  before  its  eyes.  .  .  .  Η  is  eyes  are  open 
from  the  first,  and  his  choice  is  made."  This  feeling  of  the  tragic  and 
pathetic  fatefulness  of  life  i.i  concent  rated  ii  i!i(>  last  Book. 


BOOK  I  23 

If  yon  proud  monarch  thus  thy  son  defies. 
Obscures  my  glories,  and  resumes  my  prize." 

Far  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  main, 
AVhere  aged  Ocean  holds  his  wat'ry  reign, 
The  goddess-motlier  heard.     The  waves  divide  ;  470 

And  like  a  mist  she  rose  above  the  tide  ; 
Beheld  him  mourning  on  the  naked  shores. 
And  thus  the  sorrows  of  his  soul  explores  : 
''  AVhy  grieves  my  son  ?     Thy  anguish  let  me  share  ; 
lie  veal  the  cause,  and  trust  a  parent's  care." 

He,  deeply  sighing,  said  :  ''  To  tell  my  woe. 
Is  but  to  mention  what  too  well  3^ou  know. 
From  Thebe,  sacred  to  Apollo's  name 
(Eetion's  realm),  our  conquering  army  came. 
With  treasure  loaded  and  triumphant  spoils,  480 

Whose  Just  division  crown'd  the  soldier's  toils  ; 
But  bright  Chryseis,  heav'nly  prize  !  was  led 
By  vote  selected  to  the  gen'ral's  bed. 
The  priest  of  Phoebus  sought  by  gifts  to  gain 
His  beauteous  daughter  from  the  victor's  chain  ; 
The  fleet  he  reach'd,  and,  lowly  bending  down. 
Held  forth  the  sceptre  and  the  laurel  crown, 
Entreating  all  ;  but  chief  implor'd  for  grace 
The  brother-kings  of  Atreus'  royal  race. 
The  gen'rous  Greeks  their  joint  consent  declar^/f         490 
The  priest  to  rev'rence  and  release  the  fair^ 
Not  so  Atrides  :  he,  with  wonted  pride, 
The  sire  insulted,  and  his  gifts  denied  : 
Th'  insulted  sire  (his  god's  peculiar  care) 
To  Fha3bus  pray'd,  and  Plujobus  heard  the  pray'r. 

469.   Ocean,  Nereus  (Gayley,  85). 

478.  Thebe  is  in  the  Troad.  Eetion,  Andromache's  father,  killed 
by  Achilles.     See  vi.,  525. 

484.  Here  some  of  the  early  lines  are  reproduced,  although  Pope 
varies  his  version  of  them  somewhat.  The  whole  passage  is  an 
unnecessary  repetition,  but  such  repetitions  are  common  in  Homer. 

494.  In  what  sense  is  peculiar  used  ? 


^^^lu^S^^l^^^s^aes^i^a^M 


24 


THE  ILIAD 


25 


* 


A  dreadful  plague  ensues  ;  th'  avenging  darts 

Incessant  fly,  and  pierce  the  Grecian  hearts. 

A  prophet  then,  inspirM  by  lieav'n,  arose. 

And  points  the  crime,  and  tlience  derives  the  woes  : 

Myself  the  first  th'  assembled  chiefs  incline  500 

T'  avert  the  vengeance  of  the  pow'r  divine ; 

Then,  rising  in  his  wrath,  the  monarch  storrn'd  ; 

Incensed  he  tlireaten'd,  and  his  threats  perform'd. 

The  fair  Chryseis  to  her  sire  was  sent, 

AVith  otfer'd  gifts  to  make  the  god  relent  ; 

But  now  he  seized  Brisei's'  heav'nly  charms, 

And  of  my  valour's  prize  defrauds  my  arms. 

Defrauds  the  votes  of  all  the  Grecian  train  ; 

And  service,  faith,  and  justice  plead  in  vain. 

But,  goddess  !  thou  thy  suppliant  son  attend,  510 

To  high  Olympus'  shining  court  ascend, 

Frge  all  the  ties  to  former  service  ow'd, 

And  sue  for  vengeance  to  the  thund'ring  god. 

Oft  hast  thou  triumphed  in  the  glorious  boast 

That  thou  stood'st  forth,  of  all  th'  ethereal  host, 

AVhen  bold  rebellion  shook  the  realms  above,    . 

Th'  undaunted  guard  of  cloud-compelling  Jove. 

When  the  bright  partner  of  his  awful  reign, 

The  warlike  maid,  and  monarcli  of  the  main. 

The  traitor-gods,  by  mad  ambition  driv'n,  520 

Durst  threat  with  chains  th'  omnipotence  of  heav'n. 

Then  caird  by  thee,  the  monster  Titan  came 

(Whom  gods  Briareus,  men  ^geon  name)  ; 

Through  wond'ring  skies  enormous  stalk'd  along, 

Kot  he  that  shakes  the  solid  earth  so  strong  : 

508.  Be  sure  that  yon  understaiicl  this  hnc. 

515.  "The  stranj^e  legend,"  says  Leaf,  "of  the  binding  of  Zeus 
is  not  known  from  other  sources,  nor  is  it  again  mentioned  in  Homer, 
though  there  are  numerous  nlhisions  to  battles  and  quarrels  among 
the  gods,  and  to  the  previous  dynasty  of  the  Titans,  who  are  now 
banished  to  Tartaros." 

519.  Minerva  and  Xeptune  are  referred  to. 

525.  Neptune. 


530 


540 


BOOK  I 

With  giant-pride  at  Jove's  high  throne  he  stands. 
And  brandish'd  round  him  all  his  hundred  hands. 
Til'  affrighted  gods  confess'd  their  awful  lord, 
They  dropp'd  the  fetters,  trembled,  and  ador'd. 
This,  goddess,  tliis  to  his  rememb'rancc  call, 
Embrace  his  knees,  at  his  tribunal  fall  ; 
Conjure  him  far  to  drive  tlie  Grecian  train. 
To  hurl  them  headlong  to  their  fleet  and  main. 
To  heap  the  shores  with  copious  death,  and  bring 
The  Greeks  to  know  the  curse  of  sucli  a  king. 
Let  Agameiunon  lift  his  haughty  head 
O'er  all  his  wide  dominion  of  the  dead. 
And  mourn  in  blood  that  e'er  he  durst  disgrace 
The  boldest  warrior  of  the  Grecian  race." 

""' Unhappy  son  I "  (fair  Thetis  thus  replies. 
While  tears  celestial  trickle  from  her  eves) 
*''  Why  have  I  borne  thee  with  a  mother's  throes. 
To  fates  averse,  and  nurs'd  for  future  woes  ? 
So  short  a  space  the  light  of  heav'n  to  view  ! 
8o  short  a  space  !  and  iill'd  with  sorrow  too  ! 
Oh  might  a  parent's  careful  wish  prevail, 
Far,  far  from  Ilion  should  thy  vessels  sail, 
And  thou,  from  camps  remote,  the  danger  shun. 
Which  now,  alas  I  too  nearly  threats  my  son  : 
Yet  (what  I  can)  to  move  thy  suit  I'll  go 
To  great  Olympus  crown'd  with  fleecy  snow. 
Meantime,  secure  within  thy  ships,  from  far 
Behold  the  field,  nor  mingle  in  the  war. 


527.  "  Nor  do  we  find  elsewhere  in  Tlomer  any  such  monstrous 
conception  as  that  of  a  being  Λvith  a  hundred  arms  "  (Leaf). 

5:}1.  Embrace  his  knees.  Tlie  sign  of  the  sui)pliant,  who  also 
touched  the  chin.  Leaf  suggests  an  origin  in  tlie  action  of  "the 
wounded  warrior  who  with  tlie  left  arm  clasps  the  knee  of  his  victor 
to  hamper  his  movement,  and  with  the  right  hand  turns  aside  his 
face  so  that  he  cannot  aim  the  fatal  blow  until  he  has  heard  the 
appeal  for  mercy."' 

5.-)l.   Here  the  poet  r"'\ills  the  actual  mountain  of  Tiiessaly. 


550 


I 


ύί..£>   ■tiJ-a•»•- 


»iiBj»..aaaii 


^ 


26 


TJIE  ILIAD 


27 


The  sire  of  gods  and  all  tli'  ethereal  train 

On  the  warm  limits  of  the  farthest  main, 

Kow  mix  with  mortals,  nor  disdain  to  grace 

Tlie  feasts  of  Ethiopia's  blameless  race  : 

Twelve  days  the  powers  indulge  the  genial  rite, 

Eeturning  with  the  twelfth  revolving  light. 

Tlien  will  I  mount  the  brazen  dome,  and  move  560 

The  high  tribunal  of  immortal  Jove/' 

The  goddess  spoke  :  the  rolling  waves  unclose  ; 
Then  down  the  deep  she  plung'd,  from  wlience  she  rose. 
And  left  him  sorrowing  on  the  lonely  coast. 
In  wild  resentment  for  the  fair  he  lost. 

In  Chrysa's  port  now  sage  Ulysses  rode  ; 
Beneath  the  deck  the  destin'd  victims  stowM  ; 
The  sails  they  furl'd,  they  lash'd  the  mast  aside. 
And  dropped  their  anchors,  and  the  pinnace  tied. 
Next  on  the  shore  their  hecatomb  they  land,  570 

Chrysei's  last  descending  on  the  strand, 

555.  The  great  stream  that  forms  the  rim  of  the  Earth.  See  ma[) 
in  Gayley,  313  ;  Ghidstone's  Primer,  54-57. 

557.  The  blameless  yEtliiopians,  with  whom  the  gods  loved  to 
feast,  lived  on  the  outskirts  of  the  world  (see  map  in  Gayley). 

565.  This  misrepresents  Achilles,  who  has  otiier  and  softer  feel- 
ings than  those  of  resentment.  Jlomer  says  that  he  was  "  vexed  in 
spirit,  for  the  fair-girdled  woman's  sake,  wiiom  they  luid  taken  per- 
force desjute  his  will." 

566.  The  passage  that  follows  lias  often  been  rejected  as  a  late 
addition,  because,  among  other  things,  about  half  the  Hues  are  found 
in  other  parts  of  the  Homeric  poems,  liut  Mr.  Lang  regards  the 
repetitions  as  so  many  epic  formuhe,  such  as  occur  in  sotne  of  the 
old  ballads;  and  Mr.  Leaf  says  that  they  are  '*  merely  foi-mal  lines, 
such  as  the  genius  of  epic  poetry  permits  to  be  freely  re[)eated  in 
describing  similar  scenes."  "In  any  case,"  he  adds,  "the  inter- 
polation of  the  episode  is  ingeniously  effected  in  order  to  bridge  over 
the  pause  in  the  story  caused  by  Achilles' retirement  to  his  hut." 
This  is  an  important  u\sthetic  consideration. 

568.  A  i)lan  of  the  Homeric  ship  is  given  in  Autenrieth's  Ho- 
merie  Didioimri/,  plate  iv.  of  Ai)pendix.  Anchors,  stones  for 
mooring. 


580 


BOOK  I 

Her,  thus  returning  from  the  furrow'd  main, 
Ulysses  led  to  Pha3bus'  sacred  fane ; 
Where  at  his  solemn  altar,  as  the  maid 
He  gave  to  Chryses,  thns  the  hero  said  : 

"  Hail,  reverend  priest  !  to  Phrebus'  awful  dome 
A  suppliant  I  from  great  Atrides  come  : 
Unransom'd  here  receive  the  spotless  fair  ; 
Accept  the  hecatomb  thg  Greeks  prepare  ; 
And  may  thy  god,  who  scatters  darts  aronnd, 
Aton'd  by  sacrifice,  desist  to  wound." 

At  this  the  sire  embrac'd  the  maid  again. 
So  sadly  lost,  so  lately  sought  in  vain. 
Then  near  the  altar  of  the  darting  king, 
Dispos'd  in  rank  their  hecatomb  they  bring : 
AVith  water  purify  their  hands,  and  take 
The  sacred  otf'ring  of  the  salted  cake  ; 
AVhile  thus  with  arms  devoutlv  rais'd  in  air 
And  solemn  voice,  the  priest  directs  his  prayV  : 

'•'  God  of  the  silver  bow,  thy  ear  incline, 
Whose  pow'r  encircles  Cilia  the  divine ; 
Whose  sacred  eye  thy  Tenedos  surveys. 
And  gilds  fair  Chrysa  with  distinguished  rays  ! 
If,  fir'd  to  vengeance  at  thy  priest's  request. 
Thy  direful  darts  inflict  the  raging  pest  ; 


576.  Dome,  used  in  the  Latin  sense  of  house  or  building  generally, 
or  temple.     See  again  vi.,  310.     Cf.  Goldsmith,  Traveller,  159. 

581.  Aton'd.     See  note  on  i.,  89. 

586,  587,  600-613.  After  washing  the  hands,  the  sacrificer  took 
whole  barley  grains,  roasted  and  mixed  with  salt,  and  sprinkled 
them  between  the  horns  of  the  victim,  whose  forelock  was  cut  off 
and  burned.  After  this  preliminary  ritual,  the  sacrificer,  raising  the 
animal's  head  (or,  if  the  sacrifice  was  offered  to  the  infernal  gods,  bend- 
ing it  down),  slew  it  by  cutting  its  throat,  and  flayed  it.  The  thighs 
were  then  cut  out,  and  covered  with  a  double  fold  of  fat,  and  over  them 
slices  of  meat  from  other  parts  were  laid.  The  fire  was  then  set  ablaze 
to  burn  the  thighs,  and  libations  of  wine  were  poured  upon  them  as 
the  portion  of  the  gods,  wlio  took  deliglit  in  the  savory  fumes.  Then 
the  rest  of  the  meat  was  sliced,  roasted,  and  eaten  by  the  sacrificers. 


590 


\ 


gu^^f^^l^g,^^^|^j^uijy^aa^£^^j^igaa0^lgij^^^kiil^£^ 


.-■^.  ..  ..     ..—..■        -  »i-,.^.-.>.MV«-.ag 


28 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  I 


29 


Once  more  attend  I  avert  the  wasteful  woe. 
And  smile  propitious,  and  unbend  thy  bow." 

So  Chrjses  pray'd  :  Apollo  heard  his  pray'r  ; 
And  now  the  Greeks  their  hecatomb  prepare  ; 
Between  their  liorns  the  salted  barley  threw,  600 

And  with  their  heads  to  heav'n  the  victims  slew  : 
The  limbs  they  sever  from  tk'  inclosing  liide  ; 
The  thighs,  selected  to  the  gods/»divide  : 
On  these,  in  donble  cauls  involv'd  with  art, 
The  choicest  morsels  lay  from  ev'ry  part. 
The  priest  himself  before  his  altar  stands, 
And  burns  tlie  otFring  with  his  holy  hands. 
Pours  the  black  wine,  and  sees  the  flames  aspire  ; 
The  youths  with  instruments  surround  the  fire. 
The  thighs  thus  sacrificed  and  entrails  dress'd,  610 

Th''  assistants  part,  transfix,  and  roast  the  rest : 
Then  spread  the  tables,  the  repast  prepare. 
Each  takes  his  seat,  and  each  receives  his  share. 
When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  repress'd. 
With  pure  libations  they  conclude  the  feast ; 
The  youths  witli  wine  the  copious  goblets  crown'd. 
And,  pleas'd,  dispense  the  flowing  bowls  around. 
With  hymns  divine  the  joyous  banquet  ends, 
The  paaans  lengthen'd  till  the  sun  descends : 
The  Greeks,  restored,  the  grateful  notes  prolong  :         620 
Apollo  listens,  and  approves  the  song. 

'Twas  niglit ;  the  chiefs  beside  their  vessel  lie. 
Till  rosy  morn  had  purpled  o'er  the  sky  : 
Tlien  launch,  and  lioise  the  mast ;  indulgent  gales. 
Supplied  by  Phoebus,  fill  the  swelling  sails ; 

60S.  Black.     In  its  early  meaning  of  <farA;. 

G15,  GIG.  A  little  wine  was  first  poured  into  the  cup,  and  was  erap- 
tied  on  the  ground  as  the  lil)atioii  or  offering  to  tlie  gods.  The  cup 
was  then  crowned,  filled  to  the  brim,  and  the  contents  drunk  by  the 
sacrifice  rs. 

616-633.  This  passage  oilers  a  good  opportunity  for  comparative 
work.  The  prose  gives  the  simple  beauty  of  the  original  ;  Chapman 
is  at  his  best,  and  Bryant  too,  perhaps. 


Tlie  milk-white  canvas  bellying  as  they  blow. 

The  parted  ocean  foams  and  roars  below  : 

Above  the  bounding 'billows  swift  they  flew. 

Till  now  the  Grecian  camp  appeared  in  view. 

Far  on  the  beach  they  haul  their  barks  to  land  630 

(The  crooked  keel  divides  the  yellow  sand). 

Then  part,  where,  stretch 'd  along  the  winding  bay. 

The  ships  and  tents  in  mingled  prospect  lay. 

But,  raging  still,  amidst  his  navy  sate 
The  stern  Achilles,  steadfast  in  his  hate  ; 
Nor  mix'd  in  combat  nor  in  council  join'd  ; 
But  wasting  cares  lay  heavy  on  his  mind  ; 
In  his  black  thoughts  revenge  and  slaughter  roll. 
And  scenes  of  blood  rise  dreadful  in  his  soul. 

Twelve  days  were  past,  and  now  the  dawning  light   640 
The  gods  had  summon'd  to  th'  Olympian  height : 
Jove,  first  ascending  from  the  wat'ry  bow'rs. 
Leads  the  long  order  of  ethereal  powers. 
When,  like  the  morning  mist,  in  early  day. 
Rose  from  the  flood  the  daughter  of  the  sea ; 
And  to  the  seats  divine  her  flight  addressed. 
There,  far  apart,  and  high  above  the  rest, 
The  Thuud'rer  sate  ;  where  old  Olympus  shrouds 
His  hundred  heads  in  heav'n,  and  props  the  clouds. 
Suppliant  the  goddess  stood  :  one  hand  she  plac'd         650 
Beneath  his  beard,  and  one  his  knees  embraced. 
'Ίί  e'er,  0  father  of  the  gods  !"  she  said, 
*'My  words  could  please  thee  or  my  actions  aid  : 
Some  marks  of  honour  on  mv  son  bestow. 
And  pay  in  glory  Avhat  in  life  you  owe. 
Fame  is  at  least  by  heav'nly  promise  due 
To  life  so  short,  and  now  dishonourd  too. 

636.  Much  is  lost  here  in  Pope's  sensational  rendering.  How 
much  finer  is  the  prose  !  "  He  betook  him  neither  to  the  assembly 
that  is  the  hero's  glory,  neither  to  war,  but  consumed  his  heart  in 
tarrying  in  his  place,  and  yearned  for  the  war-cry  and  for  battle." 

646.  Address' d,  directed. 


i 


a-ja.!  ί^ί...,  J,  nMgj  .:  jji 


30 


ΤΠΕ  ILIAD 


BOOK  I 


31 


Avenge  this  wrong,  0  ever  just  and  wise  ! 

Let  Greece  be  humbled  and  the  Trojans  rise  ; 

Till  the  proud  king  and  all  tli''  Acliaian  race  GGO 

Shall  heap  with  honours  him  they  now  disgrace/' 

Thus  Thetis  spoke,  but  Jove  in  silence  held 
The  sacred  councils  of  his  breast  conceal'd. 
Not  so  repuls'd,  the  goddess  closer  pressed. 
Still  grasp'd  his  knees,  and  urg'd  the  dear  request  : 
"  0  sire  of  gods  and  men  !  thy  supiiliant  hear ; 
Eefuse  or  grant ;  for  what  has  Jove  to  fear  ? 
Or,  oh  I  declare,  of  all  the  pow'rs  above. 
Is  wretched  Thetis  least  the  care  of  Jove  ? '' 

She  said,  and  sighing  thus  the  god  replies  670 

Who  rolls  the  thunder  o'er  the  vaulted  skies  : 

''  What  hast  thou  ask'd  ?  Ah  1  why  should  Jove  engage 
In  foreign  contests  and  domestic  rage. 
The  gods'  complaints,  and  Juno's  fierce  alarms. 
While  I,  too  partial,  aid  the  Trojan  arms  ? 
Go,  lest  the  haughty  partner  of  my  sway 
With  jealous  eyes  thy  close  access  survey  ; 
But  part  in  peace,  secure  tliy  pray'r  is  sped  : 
Witness  the  sacred  honours  of  our  head, 
The  nod  that  ratifies  the  will  divine,  680 

The  faithful,  fix'd,  irrevocable  sign  ; 
This  seals  thy  suit,  and  this  fulfils  thy  vows—" 
He  spoke  ;  and  awful  bends  his  sable  brows. 
Shakes  his  ambrosial  curls,  and  gives  the  nod. 
The  stamp  of  fate  and  sanction  of  the  god  : 

665.  Thar,  precious  ;  important. 

671.  This  is  Pope's  expansion  of  Tiomer's  epithet,  "  the  cloud- 
gatherer." 

676.  On  the  strange  admixture  of  qualities  to  be  found  in  Homer's 
Jupiter,  see  Gladstone's  PiHmer,  66. 

683.  The  prose  brings  out  better  the  simple  grandeur  of  the 
description.  This  is  the  famous  passage  which  is  said  to  have  given 
to  Phidias  the  inspiration  for  his  majestic  gold  and  ivory  statue  of 
Zeus  at  Olympia, 


High  heav'n  with  trembling  the  dread  signal  took. 
And  all  Olympus  to  the  centre  shook. 

Swift  to  the  seas  profound  the  goddess  flies, 
Jove  to  his  starry  mansion  in  the  skies. 
The  shining  synod  of  th'  immortals  wait  690 

The  coming  god,  and  from  their  thrones  of  state 
Arising  silent,  rapt  in  holy  fear. 
Before  the  majesty  of  heav'n  appear. 
Trembling  they  stand,  while  Jove  assumes  the  throne. 
All  but  the  god's  imperious  queen  alone  : 
Late  had  she  view'd  the  silver-footed  dame. 
And  all  her  passions  kindled  into  flame. 
**  Say,  artful  manager  of  heaven  "  (she  cries), 
'^  Who  now  partakes  the  secrets  of  the  skies  ? 
Thy  Juno  knows  not  the  decrees  of  fate,  700 

In  vain  the  partner  of  imperial  state. 
What  fav'rite  goddess  then  those  cares  divides 
Which  Jove  in  prudence  from  his  consort  hides  ?" 

To  this  the  Thund'rer  :  '^  Seek  not  thou  to  find 
The  sacred  counsels  of  almighty  mind  : 
Involv'd  in  darkness  lies  the  great  decree, 
Nor  can  the  depths  of  fate  be  pierc'd  by  thee  ; 
What  fits  thy  knowledge,  thou  the  first  shalt  know  : 
The  first  of  gods  above  and  men  below  ; 
But  thou  nor  they  shall  search  the  thoughts  that  roll     710 
Deep  in  the  close  recesses  of  my  soul.'^ 

Full  on  the  sire  the  goddess  of  the  skies 
Koll'd  the  large  orbs  of  her  majestic  eyes, 
And  tlius  returned  :  "  Austere  Saturnius,  say, 
From  whence  this  Avrath,  or  who  controls  thy  sway  ? 

698.  How  this  jars  !     "  Thou  crafty  of  mind  "  is  the  prose. 

712.  The  prose  runs  :  "Then  Hera,  the  ox-eyed  queen,  made 
answer  to  him."  The  oft-repeated  epithet  "  ox-eyed  "  indicates  tlie 
Greek  partiality  for  the  full,  round,  liquid  eye. 

714.  Saturnius.  Son  of  Saturn,  the  ruler  of  heaven  "before 
Jupiter.  He  is  wonderfully  presented  in  his  fallen  divinity  by 
Keats,  in  his  Hyperion. 


!| 


I 


32 


THE  ILIAD 


Thy  boundless  will,  for  me,  remain»  in  force, 

And  iill  thy  counsels  take  the  destin'd  course. 

But  'tis  for  Greece  I  fear  :  for  late  was  seen 

In  close  consult  the  silver-footed  queen. 

Jove  to  his  Thetis  nothing  could  deny,  720 

Nor  was  the  signal  vain  that  shook  the  sky. 

What  fatal  favour  has  the  goddess  won, 

To  grace  her  fierce  inexorable  son  ? 

Perhaps  in  Grecian  blood  to  drench  the  plain, 

And  glut  his  vengeance  with  my  people  slain." 

Then  thus  the  god  :  *Oh  restless  fate  of  pride. 
That  strives  to  learn  what  heav'n  resolves  to  liide  ! 
Vain  is  the  search,  presumptuous  and  abhorr'd. 
Anxious  to  thee  and  odious  to  thy  lord. 
Let  this  suffice  ;  th'  immutable  decree  730 

Ko  force  can  shake :  what  iSf  that  oufjJif  to  be. 
Goddess,  submit,  nor  dare  our  will  withstand. 
But  dread  tEe  power  of  this  avenging  hand  ; 
Th*  united  strength  of  all  the  gods  above 
In  vain  resists  tli'  omnipotence  of  Jove.'' 

The  ThundVer  spoke,  nor  durst  the  queen  reply  ; 
A  rev'rend  horror  silenc'd  all  the  sky. 
The  feast  disturb'd,  with  sorrow  Vulcan  saw 
His  mother  menaced  and  the  gods  in  awe  ;  • 
Peace  at  his  heart  and  pleasure  his  design,  740 

Thus  interposed  the  architect  divine  : 

719.  CV/t^fi//,  for  consultation.     L^uisual. 

724,  735.  More  of  Pope's  fustian, 

731.  The  ei)i^rain  is,  of  course.  Pope's  own. 

735.  This  scene,  says  Mr.  I>eaf,  'Ms  typical  of  the  spirit  in  which 
Homer  treats  the  deities  of  Olympus,  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  not 
reverent,  and  far  removed  from  any  conception  of  primitive  i)iety. 
It  is,  indeeei,  one  among  many  signs  that  the  civilization  of  tlie 
heroic  age  was  old  and  not  young — a  civilization  Avhicii  was  out- 
growing the  simple  faith  of  its  ancestors."  See  Introduction,  p. 
xiv. 

741.  He  was  supjKJiied  to  have  fashioueil  the  celestial  palaces  (see 
i.,  779). 


BOOK  I 


m 


'*  The  wretched  quarrels  of  the  mortal  state 

Are  far  unworthy,  gods  !  of  your  debate  : 

Let  men  their  days  in  senseless  strife  employ ; 

We,  in  eternal  peace  and  constant  joy. 

Thou,  goddess-mother,  witii  our  sire  comply. 

Nor  break  the  sacred  union  of  the  sky  : 

Lest,  rous'd  to  rage,  he  shake  the  blest  abodes. 

Launch  the  red  lightning,  and  dethrone  the  gods. 

If  you  submit,  the  Thund'rer  stands  appeas'd  ;  750 

The  gracious  pow'r  is  willing  to  be  pleas'd." 

Thus  Vulcan  spoke  ;  and,  rising  with  a  bound, 
The  double  bowl  with  sparkling  nectar  crown'd. 
Which  held  to  Juno  in  a  cheerful  way, 
'•'  Goddess  "  (he  cried),  ''  be  patient  and  obey. 
Dear  as  you  are,  if  Jove  his  arm  extend, 
I  can  but  grieve,  unable  to  defend. 
What  god  so  daring  in  your  aid  to  move, 
Or  lift  his  hand  against  the  force  of  Jove  ? 
Once  in  your  cause  I  felt  his  matchless  might,  760 

Hurrd  headlong  downward  from  th'  ethereal  height ; 
Toss'd  all  the  day  in  rapid  circles  round  ; 
Nor,  till  the  sun  descended,  touch'd  the  ground  : 
Breathless  I  fell,  in  giddy  motion  lost; 
The  Sinthians  rais'd  me  on  the  Lemnian  coast.'* 

He  said,  and  to  her  hands  the  goblet  heav'd, 
Which,  with  a  smile,  the  white-arm'd  queen  received. 
Then  to  the  rest  he  fill'd  ;  and,  in  his  turn, 
Eacli  to  his  lips  applied  the  iiectar'd  urn. 
Vulcan  with  awkward  grace  his  office  plies,  770 

And  unextinguished  laughter  shakes  the  skies. 

Thus  the  blest  gods  the  genial  day  prolong 
In  feasts  ambrosial  and  celestial  song. 

753.  Double  howl,  having  a  cup  at  both  ends. 
753.  Nectar,  the  drink  of  the  gods;  their  food  was  ambrosia  (see 
1.  773). 

760-765.  Milton  had  these  lines  in  mind  in  Par.  Lost,  i.,  738. 
771.  Because  the  lame  god  hobbled  with  such  comic  gracelessness. 


η 


34 


THE  ILIAD 


ARGUMENTS 


35 


4 


Apollo  tiin'tl  the  lyre ;  the  muses  round 

With  voice  alteniiite  aid  the  silver  sound. 

Meantime  the  radiant  sun,  to  mortal  sisrht 

Descending  swift,  roll'd  down  the  rapid  light. 

Then  to  their  starry  domes  the  gods  depart, 

The  si  lining  monuments  of  Vulcan's  art  : 

Jove  on  his  couch  reclin'd  his  awful  head,  780 

And  Juno  slumber'd  on  the  golden  bed, 

775.  Alternate,  each  singing  in  turn,  as  the  rliapsodists  did  when 
reciting  epics. 

Mr.  Leaf  closes  his  notes  on  this  book  with  the  following  valuable 
comments : 

•*it  is  injpossiblo  to  leave  this  splendid  book  without  noticing  the 
supreme  art  with  which  all  the  leading  characters  on  both  the  stages 
of  the  coming  story  have  been  introduced  to  us;  drawn  in  strong 
strokes,  where  not  a  touch  is  lost,  and  standing  before  us  at  once  as 
finished  types  for  all  time.  On  earth  we  already  know  the  contrast 
between  the  surly  resentment  of  Agamemnon  and  the  flaming  but 
placable  passion  of  Achilles,  and  we  have  had  a  glimpse  of  the  mild 
wisdom  of  Nestor  and  the  devoted  friendship  of  Patroklos.  h\ 
heaven  the  three  chief  actors,  Zeus,  Hera,  and  Athene,  already  pre- 
sent themselves  as  the  strong  but  overweighted  husband,  the  jealous 
and  domineering  wife,  and  the  ideal  of  self-restraint  and  wise 
reflexion.  The  third  book  will  do  the  same  for  the  Trojan  side, 
showing  us  in  vivid  outline  Hector,  Paris,  and  Priam,  and  their 
chief  advocate  in  heaven,  the  goddess  Aphrodite,  with  her  victim, 
Helen,  the  centre  of  the  tragedy." 


BOOK  II. 

THIS  TRIAL  OP  THE  AEMY  AND  CATALOGUE  OP  THE   FORCES. 

Jupiter,  in  pursuance  of  the  request  of  Thetis,  sends  a  deceitful 
vision  to  Agamemnon,  persuading  him  to  lead  the  army  io  battle, 
in  order  to  make  the  Greeks  sensible  of  their  want  of  Achilles.  The 
general,  who  is  deluded  with  tiie  hopes  of  taking  Troy  without  his 
assistance,  but  fears  the  army  was  discouraged  by  his  absence  and 
the  late  plague,  as  well  as  by  length  of  time,  contrives  to  make  trial 
of  their  disposition  by  a  stratagem.  He  first  communicates  his  de- 
sign to  the  princes  in  council,  that  be  would  propose  a  return  to  the 
soldiers,  and  that  they  should  put  a  stop  to  them  if  the  proposal  was 


embraced.  Then  he  assembles  the  whole  host,  and  upon  moving  for 
a  return  to  Greece,  they  unanimously  agree  to  it,  and  run  to  pre- 
pare the  ships.  They  are  detained  by  the  management  of  Ulysses, 
who  chastises  the  insolence  of  Thcrsites.  The  assembly  is  recalled, 
several  speeches  made  on  the  occasion,  and  at  length  the  advice  of 
Nestor  followed,  which  was  to  make  a  general  muster  of  the  troops, 
and  to  divide  them  into  tlieir  several  nations,  before  they  proceeded 
to  battle.  This  gives  occasion  to  the  poet  to  enumerate  all  the  forces 
of  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  in  a  large  catalogue. 

Tlie  time  employed  in  this  book  consists  not  entirely  of  one  day. 
The  scene  lies  in  the  Grecian  camp  and  upon  the  sea-shore  ;  toward 
the  end  it  removes  to  Troy. 


BOOK   III. 

THE   DUEL  OF   MEXELAUS  AND   PARIS. 

The  armies  being  ready  to  engage,  a  single  combat  is  agi-eed  upon 
between  jMenelaiis  and  Taris  (by  the  intervention  of  Hector)  for  the 
determination  of  the  Λvar.  Iris  is  sent  to  call  Helen  to  behold  the 
light.  She  leads  her  to  the  walls  of  Troy,  where  Priam  sat  with  his 
counsellors,  observing  the  Grecian  leaders  on  the  plain  below,  to 
whom  Helen  gives  an  account  of  the  chief  of  them.  The  kings  on 
either  part  take  the  solemn  oath  for  the  conditions  of  the  combat. 
The  duel  ensues,  wherein  Paris,  being  overcome,  is  snatched  aw^ay  in 
a  cloud  by  Venus,  and  transported  to  his  apartment.  She  then  calls 
Helen  from  the  walls,  and  brings  the  lovers  together.  Agamemnon, 
on  the  })art  of  the  Grecians,  demands  the  restoration  of  Helen,  and 
the  performance  of  the  articles. 

The  three-and-twentieth  day  still  continues  throughout  this  book. 
The  scene  is  sometimes  iu  the  field  before  Troy,  and  sometimes  in 
Trov  itself. 


\ 


BOOK  IV. 

THE  BREACH  OF  THE  TRUCE  AND  THE  FIRST  BATTLE. 

The  Gods  deliberate  i:i  council  concerning  the  Trojan  war  :  they 
agree  upon  the  continuation  of  it,  and  Jupiter  sends  down  Minerva 
to  break  the  truce.  She  persuades  Pandarus  to  aim  an  arrow  at 
MenelaQs,  who  is  wounded,  but  cured  by  Machaon.  In  tlie  mean- 
time some  of  the  Trojan  troops  attack  the  Greeks.  Agamemnon  is 
distinguished  in  all  the  parts  of  a  good  general  ;   he  reviews  the 


36 


THE  ILIAD 


( 


troops,  and  exhorts  the  It^mlers,  some  by  praises,  and  otheis  hy 
reproofs.  Nestor  is  particularly  celebrated  for  his  military  discipline. 
The  battle  joins,  and  frreat  ninnl>ers  arc  slain  on  both  sides. 

The  same  day  eoiiliimes  througli  this,  as  through  the  last  book  ; 
as  it  does  also  through  the  two  following,  and  almost  to  the  end  of 
the  seventh  book.     The  sceue  is  wholly  in  the  field  before  Troy. 


BOOK  V. 


TUK  ACT8  OF  iHOMiiD. 

Dioraed,  assistetl  by  Pallas,  performs  wonders  in  this  day's  battle. 
Pandarus  wounds  him  with  an  arrow,  but  the  goddess  cures  him, 
enables  him  to  discern  gods  from  mortals,  and  prohibits  him  from 
contending  with  any  of  the  former,  excepting  Venus.  ^Eneas  joins 
Pandarus  to  oppose  him,  Pandarus  is  killed,  and  jEneas  in  great 
danger  but  for  the  assistance  of  A'enus,  who,  as  she  is  removing 
her  son  from  the  fight,  is  wounded  on  the  hand  by  Diomed.  Apollo 
seconds  her  in  his  rescue,  and  at  length  carries  off  ^]neas  to  Tifoy, 
where  he  is  Iiealed  in  the  temple  of  Pergamus.  Mare  rallies  the 
Trojans,  and  assists  Hector  to  make  a  stand.  In  the  mean  time 
uEneas  is  restored  to  the  field,  and  they  overthrow  several  of  the 
Greeks  ;  among  the  ivst  Tle|H>lemus  is  slain  by  Sarpedon.  Juno 
and  Minerva  descend  to  resist  Mars  ;  the  latter  incites  Diomeil  to  go 
against  that  gotl  ;  Le  W4>uiid:i  him,  and  ijeuds  him  gi-oMuing  to 
heaven. 

The  first  battle  continues  through  this  book.  The  scene  is  the 
same  as  in  the  former. 


BOOK  VL* 

TTIE  ARGUMENT. 

THE     EPISODES     OF    GLAUCUS     AND    DIOMED,     AND      OP      HECTOR      AND 

ANDROMACHE. 

The  gods  having  left  the  field,  the  Grecians  prevail,  flelenus, 
the  chief  augur  of  Troy,  commands  Hector  to  return  to  the  city,  in 
order  to  appoint  a  solemn  procession  of  the  queen  and  the  Trojan 

*  Leaf,  iiitrcxiucing  this  lKX)k,  says:  "Of  all  the  Iliad,  this  incom- 
parable book  attains  the  grandest  height  of  narrative  and  composi 
tion,  of  action  luiii  jiathos.     Nowhere  else  have  we  so  perfect  a 


BOOK  YI 


37 


matrons  to  the  temple  of  Minerva,  to  entreat  her  to  remove  Diomed 
from  the  fight.  The  battle  relaxing  during  the  absence  of  Hector, 
Glaucus  and  Diomed  have  an  interview  between  the  two  armies  ; 
where,  coming  to  the  knowledge  of  the  friendship  and  hospitality 
past  between  their  ancestors,  they  make  exchange  of  their  arms. 
Hector,  having  performed  the  orders  of  Helenus,  prevailed  upon 
Paris  to  return  to  the  battle,  and,  taking  a  tender  leave  of  his  wife 
Andromache,  hastens  again  to  the  field. 

The  scene  is  first  in  the  field  of  battle,  between  the  rivers  Siraois 
and  Scamander,  and  then  changes  to  Troy. 

Now  lieav'n  forsakes  the  fight ;  th'  immortals  yield 
To  humiiii  force  and  luiman  skill  the  field  : 
Dark  show'rs  of  jav'liiis  fly  from  foes  to  foes  ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  the  tide  of  combat  flows  ; 
While  Troy's  fam'd  streams,    that  bound  the  deathful 

plain, 
On  either  side  run  purple  to  the  main. 

Great  Ajax  first  to  conquest  led  the  way, 
Broke  the  thick  ranks,  and  turn'd  the  doubtful  day. 
The  Thracian  Acamas  his  falchion  found, 
And  hewM  th'  enormous  giant  to  the  ground  ;  10 

gallery  of  types  of  human  character;  the  two  pairs,  Hector  and 
Paris,  Helen' and  Andromache,  in  their  truthfulness  and  contrast, 
form  a  group  as  subtly  as  they  are  broadly  drawn  ;'  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  «battle vignettes,'  witii  which  the  book  opens,  and 
the  culmination  of  the  scenes  of  war  in  the  meeting  of  Glaukos  and 
Diomedes,  set  beforc  us  with  unequalled  vivaxiity  the  pride  of  life 
of  an  heroic  age,  the  refinement  of  feeling  which  no  fierceness  of 
fight  can  barbarise,  in  the  most  consummate  manner  of  the  '  great 

stvle.'  " 

1.  Heavn.     The  deities  mentioned  in  Book  v.  (see  Argument). 

5.  Famd  streams.     Look  up  iii  map.      Every  place  mentioned 

should  be  located. 

6.  Purple.  Used  as  Milton  and  Gray  used  it  (see  Lycidas  and  Ode 
to  Spring),  in  its  Latin  sense  of  bright-coloretl.  Note,  as  a  pecu- 
liarity of  Pope's  diction,  his  frequent  use  of  words  in  the  strict  sense 
of  the  Latin  words  from  which  they  are  derived.     (See  also  i.,  320.) 

9.  Acamas.  Noted  for  valor.  Marr,  had  assumed  his  shai>e. 
When  ? 


) 


38 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  VI 


B9 


i' 


His  thnridVing  arm  a  deadly  stroke  impress'd 

Where  the  black  horse-hair  nodded  o'er  his  crest  : 

Fix^'d  in  his  front  the  brazen  weapon  lies. 

And  seals  in  endless  shades  liis  swimming  eyes. 

Kext  Teutliras'  son  distaiii'd  the  sands  with  blood, 

Axylus,  hospitable,  rich,  and  good  : 
•   In  fair  Arisba's  walls  (his  native  place) 

He  held  his  seat ;  a  friend  to  hnman  race. 

Fast  by  the  road,  his  ever-open  door 

ObligM  the  wealthy  and  relievM   the  poor.  20 

To  stern  Tydides  now  he  falls  a  prey, 

ISTo  friend  to  guard  him  in  the  dreadful  day  ! 

Breathless  the  good  man  fell,  and  by  his  side 

His  faithful  servant,  old  Calcsius,  died. 
By  great  Euryalus  was  Dresus  slain. 

And  next  he  laid  Opheltius  on  the  plain. 

Two  twins  were  near,  bold,  beautiful,  and  young. 

From  a  fair  Naiad  and  Bucolion  sprung 

(Laomcdon's  white  flocks  Bucolion  fed, 

That  monarch's  first-born  by  a  foreign  bed  ;  30 

In  secret  woods  lie  won  the  Naiad's  grace. 

And  two  fair  infants  crown'd  his  strong  embrace)  : 

Here  dead  they  lay  in  all  their  youthful  charms  ; 

The  ruthless  victor  stripped  their  shining  arms. 

Astyalus  by  Poly  partes  fell ; 
Ulysses'  spear  Pidytes  sent  to  hell ; 

14.  Σι/β8.     Compare  the  simple  Homeric  expression,   "  and  dark- 
ness shrouded  his  eyes."    Does  Pope  gain  anything  ? 

19.  FasL     In  the  sense  of  close.      Of.  fast-haiided,  dose-fiated, 
hard  by. 

20.  Note  the  terse,  compact  phrasing.  Collect  other  examples. 
22.  Suggests  the  pathos  of  his  undeserved  and  unfriended  fate. 
24.  Servant.     Homer  adds,  *'  the  driver  of  his  chariot,"  who  may 

be  regarded  as  akin  to  a  knight's  squire  in  later  times. 

27.  Two  twim.    A  curious  lapse  for  the  "  correct "  Pope. 

28.  Naiad.     Fountain-nymph.      What   other   kinds  of  nvmphs 
were  there  ? 


"f 


40 


50 


By  Teucer's  shaft  brave  Aretaon  bled, 
And  Nestor's  son  laid  stern  Ablerus  dead  ; 
Great  Agamemnon,  leader  of  the  brave. 
The  mortal  Avouiid  of  rich  Elatus  gave. 
Who  held  in  Pedasus  his  proud  abode, 
And  till'd  the  banks  where  silver  Satnio  flow'd. 
Melanthius  by  Eurypylus  was  slain  ; 
.And  Phylacus  from  Leitus  flies  in  vain. 

Unbless'd  Adrastus  next  at  mercy  lies 
Beneath  the  Spartan  spear,  a  living  prize. 
Scar'd  with  the  din  and  tumult  of  the  fight. 
His  headlong  steeds,  precipitate  in  flight, 
Kush'd  on  a  tamarisk's  strong  trunk,  and  broke 
The  shatter'd  chariot  from  the  crooked  yoke  ; 
Wide  o'er  the  field,  resistless  as  the  wind. 
For  Troy  they  fly,  and  leave  their  lord  behind. 
Prone  on  his  face  he  sinks  beside  the  wheel. 
Atrides  o'er  him  shakes  his  vengeful  steel  ; 
The  fallen  chief  in  suppliant  posture  press'd 
The  victor's  knees,  and  thus  his  pray'r  address'd  : 

''  0\\\  spare  my  youth,  and  for  the  life  I  owe 
Large  gifts  of  price  my  father  shall  bestow  : 
When  fame  shall  tell  that,  not  in  battle  slain. 
Thy  hollow  ships  his  captive  son  detain  ; 
Rich  heaps  of  brass  shall  in  thy  tent  be  told. 
And  steel  well-temper 'd,  and  persuasive  gold. 

37.   Teucer,  a  famous  archer  ;  son  of  Telamon,  and  step-brother  of 

Ajax. 
41.  Pedasus.     Homer's  adjective  **  steep  "  characterizes  this  town 

on  the  mountain  slopes  of  Mysia. 

46.  Spartan  spear.     Of  Menelaus  ;  "  him  of  the  loud  war-cry  "  is 

Homer's  epithet. 

50.  Chariot.     For  a  plan  of  the  chariot,  see  Autenrieth,  p.  34. 
Cf.  also  xxiv.,  335-340,  and  Introduction,  p.  xxvi, 

58.  Bestow.  As  ransom  :  the  only  condition  on  which  a  victim  was 

spared. 

59.  Fame.     In  the  Latin  sense  of  report,  rumor. 

61,  62.  Brass  and  sted.     The  prose  has  "  bronze  "  and  "  smithied 
iron."'     Grote  says  that  "  the  Homeric  descriptions  universally  pre- 


60 


J9 


i 

I 
I 


ίΒΐ;ίί1ίίΐΒίί^''ί>-•'''ί''^  -!ί.•.^.ν^««η;.ϋυ  a 


/ 


40 


TMM  ITjTAJ} 


BOOK  VI 


41 


He  said  :  compassion  toiicli'd  tlie  hero's  heart ; 
He  stood  suspended  with  tlie  lifted  dart. 
As  pity  pleaded  for  his  vanquisli'd  prize, 
Stern  Agamemnon  swift  to  vengeance  flies, 
And  furious  thus  :  ''  0  impotent  of  mind  ! 
Shall  these,  shall  these  Atrides'  mercy  find  ? 
Well  hast  thou  known  proud  Troy's  perfidious  land. 
And  well  her  natives  merit  at  thy  hand  !  70 

Kot  one  of  all  the  race,  nor  sex,  nor  age. 
Shall  save  a  Trojan  from  our  boundless  rage  ; 
Ilion  shall  perish  whole,  and  bury  all  ; 
Her  babes,  her  infants  at  the  breast,  shall  fall. 
A  dreadful  lesson  of  exampled  fate. 
To  warn  the  nations  and  to  curb  the  great  ! '' 

The  monarch  spoke  ;  the  Avords,  with  warmth  addressed, 
To  rigid  justice  steel'd  his  brother's  breast. 
Fierce  from  his  knees  the  hapless  chief  he  thrust ; 
The  monarcli's  jav'lin  stretch'd  him  in  the  dust.  80 

Then,  pressing  with  his  foot  his  panting  heart, 
Forth  from  the  slain  ho  tugg\l  the  reeking  dart. 
Old  Nestor  saw,  and  rous'd  the  warriors'  rage  : 
'•'Thus,  heroes  !  thus  the  vigorous  combat  wage  ! 
Xo  son  of  Mars  descend,  for  servile  gains, 
To  touch  the  booty,  while  a  foe  remains. 

suppose  copper  and  not  iron  to  be  employed  for  arms,  both  offensive 
and  defensive.  By  what  process  the  copper  was  tempered  and  liard- 
encd  so  as  to  serve  the  purpose  of  the  warrior,  we  do  not  know  ;  but 
the  use  of  iron  for  these  objects  belongs  to  a  later  age."  See  also 
Gladstone  and  Jebb.     Coined  money  was  unknown  at  tliis  time. 

61.   Tuid,  counted.     Cf.  Fsaltn  xe.  9,  and  our  word  "teller." 

04.  Suspended.  In  the  original  Latin  sense  of  wavering,  hesitat- 
ing, waiting.     Cf.  suspe7ise. 

70.  Ironical,  of  course  ;  seeing  that  the  wrong  done  to  Meneluus 
had  caused  the  war. 

80.  Contrast  fierce  Agamemnon  and  his  compassionate  brother. 
Pope's  note  says  that  the  fact  tliat  Agamemnon's  cruel  deed  is  not 
blamed  by  Homer  "  must  be  ascribed  to  the  uncivilized  manners  of 
those  times.  The  historical  books  of  the  Old  Testaiueiit  abound  in 
instances  of  tlie  like  cruelty  to  conquereil  enemies." 


99 


90 


Behold  yon  glitt'ring  host,  your  future  spoil  I^ 
^^First  gain  the  conquest,  then  reward  the  toil.' 
And  now  liad  Greece  eternal  fame  acquired. 
And  frighted  Troy  within  her  walls  retir'd  ; 
Had  not  sage  Helenus  her  state  redress'd, 
Taught  by  the  gods  that  mov'd  his  sacred  breast. 
Where  Hector  stood,  with  great  ^neas  join'd, 
Tlie  seer  reveaFd  the  counsels  of  his  mind  : 

"  Ye  gen'rous  chiefs  !  on  whom  th'  immortals  lay 
The  cares  and  glories  of  this  doubtful  day. 
On  whom  your  aids,  your  country's  hopes  depend, 
AVise  to  consult  and  active  to  defend  ! 
Here,  at  our  gates,  your  brave  efforts  unite. 
Turn  back  the   routed,  and  forbid  the  flight ;  100 

Ere  yet  their  wives'  soft  arms  the  cowards  gain. 
The  sport  and  insult  of  the  hostile  train. 
When  your  commands  have  hearten'd  ev'ry  band. 
Ourselves,  here  fix'd,  Avill  make  the  dang'rous  stand  ; 
Press'd  as  we  are  and  sore  of  former  fight. 
These  straits  demand  our  last  remains  of  might. 
Meanwhile,  thou,  Hector,  to  the  town  retire. 
And  teach  our  mother  what  the  gods  require  : 
Direct  the  queen  to  lead  th'  assembled  train 
Of  Troy's  chief  matrons  to  Minerva's  fane  ;  110 

Unbar  the  sacred  gates,  and  seek  the  pow'r. 
With  offer'd  vows,  in  Hion's  topmost  tow'r. 

^88.  A  good  example  of  Pope's  condensed,  sententious  style  :  com- 
])are  the  prose  version.     Look  for  other  examples. 

91.  Helenus.  Son  of  Priam  ;  Hector's  brother,  therefore.  Tl.e 
])riests  were  not  a  class  apart.  They  fought  in  the  wars.  Cf.  Chris- 
tian warrior-priests,  who  sometimes  fought  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

91.  Redress'd.  Improved  her  condition  by  rallying  the  Trojans 
for  the  time  being.     His  plan  of  api>easing  Minerva  does  not  avail. 

93.  JEneas.     See  Introduction,  p.  xi. 

99.  Efforts.     Note  accent  on  second  syllable. 

104.  Dangerous  stand.     Expand  this  figure. 

108.  Mother.     See  1.  313. 

110.  Fa  UK     Temple  ;  from  the  Latin. 


ttt»aiaSiia">---«''-«.*-ijaMau.i 


42 


TMM  ILIAD 


The  largest  mantle  her  rich  wardrobes  liold. 
Most  priz'd  for  art,  and  laboured  o'er  with  gold. 
Before  tlie  goddess'  honour'd  knees  be  spread ; ' 
And  twelve  young  lieifers  to  lier  altars  led. 
If  so  tlie  pow'r,  atoii'd  by  fervent  prayer. 
Our  wives,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare. 
And  far  avert  Tydides'  wasteful  ire, 
Tliat  mows  whole  troops  and  makes  all  Troy  retire. 
Not  thus  Acliilles  taught  our  hosts  to  dread,  • 

Sprung  thougli  he  was  from  more  tlian  mortal  bed  : 
Kot  thus  resistless  ruFd  the  stream  of  fight, 
In  rage  unbounded  and  nnniatcli'd  in  nriglil.'' 

Hector  obedient  heard,  and  with  a  bound 
Leaped  from  liis  trembling  chariot  to  the  ground  ; 
Through  all  his  host,  inspiring  force,  he  Hies, 
And  bids  the  thunder  of  the  battle  rise. 
With  rage  recruited  tlie  bold  Trojans  glow. 
And  turn  the  tide  of  conflict  on  the  foe  : 
Fierce  in  the  front  he  shakes  two  dazzling  speans ; 
All  Greece  recedes,  and  midst  her  triumpii  fears  / 
Some  god,  they  thouglit,  wlio  rul'd  the  fate  of  wa 
Shot  down  avenging  from  tlie  vault  of  stars. 

Then  thus,  aloud  :  "  Ye  dauntless  Dardans,  hear 
And  you  whom  distant  nations  send  to  war  ! 


rs, 


no 


130 


»      C- 


^ 


113.  Mantle.  The  Greek  "pcplos  ;  "  a  robe  used,  by  skilful  fold- 
ing and  hanging,  as  a  garment  by  women,  and  as  a  covering  for 
chariots,  chairs,  and  funeral  m-ns.  Tlie  beautiful  Parthenon  frieze 
represents  the  Athenians  bringing  the  peplos  to  their  patron  god- 
dess. 

115.  Knees,  Suggests  that  the  statue  was  a  sealed  figure,  unlike 
later  statues,  which  represent  Minerva  standing. 

117-120.  Construction  elliptical  :  paraphrase  the  passage. 

119.   Wasteful.     Γ/',  i..  8Γ,  and  430. 

125.  Hector  obedient  heard.  Note  again  Pope's  condensation. 
The  prose  version  reads,  "  So  si)ake  he,  and  Hector  disregarded  not 
his  brother's  word." 

135.  There  is  eifective  alliteration  here.  To  what  extent  does  Poi)e 
make  use  of  alliteration  in  tJiis  book  ?    Compare  with  Book  i. 


BOOK   VI 


43 


Be  mindful  of  the  strength  your  fathers  bore  ; 
Be  still  yourselves,  and  Hector  asks  no  more. 
One  hour  demands  me  in  the  Trojan  wall. 
To  bid  our  altars  flame  and  victims  fall  : 
Nor  shall,  I  trust,  the  matrons'  holy  train 
And  rev'rend  elders  seek  the  gods  in  vain.'' 

This  said,  with  ample  strides  the  hero  pass'd  ; 
The  shield's  large  orb  behind  his  shoulder  cast, 
Ilis  neck  o'ershading,  to  his  ankle  hung  ; 
And  as  he  march'd  the  brazen  buckler  rung. 

Now  paus'd  the  battle  (godlike  Hector  gone). 
When  daring  Glaucus  and  great  Tydeus'  son 
Between  both  armies  met  ;  the  chiefs  from  far 
Observ'd  each  other,  and  had  mark'd  for  war. 
Near  as  they  drew,  Tydides  thus  began  : 

**  What  art  thou,  boldest  of  the  race  of  man  ? 
Our  eyes,  till  now,  that  aspect  ne'er  beheld, 
Where  fame  is  reap'd  amid  th'  embattled  field  ; 
Yet  far  before  the  troops  thou  darst  appear. 
And  meet  a  lance  the  fiercest  heroes  fear. 


140 


150 


145.  As  to  the  Greek  shield,  see  Introduction,  p.  xxvi.  In  using 
the  word  brazen,  Pope  is  wrong. 

147.  Paused  the  battle.  The  poet,  too,  pauses,  and  relieves  his 
tale  of  war  by  delightful  digressions  and  contrasts» — the  stories  of 
Lycurgus  and  Bellerophon,  and  of  Hector's  experiences  within  the 
)y/€ity  with  Paris  and  with  Aiidromache  and  his  child.  These  are 
examples  of  the  charm  of  variety  which  is  one  of  the  secrets  of 
Homer's  irresistible  attractiveness.  This  variety  makes  of  the 
"  Iliad  '*  an  epitome  of  ancient  Greek  civilisation  in  all  its  important 
aspects,  revealing  its  quiet  domestic  life  no  less  than  its  fierceness 
of  war. 

147.  Hector.  Homer's  epithet  lacking  again  :  "  Hector  of  the 
glancing  helm." 

150.  For  war.  Such  single  combats  were  frequent  in  ancient  and 
mediaeval  wars.  Cf.  Arnold's  Sohrab  and  Rustum,  Scott's  Lay  of 
the  Last  3ii?i8trel,  etc. 

156.  As  Glaucus  has  not  been  conspicuous  in  the  war,  Diomed 
regards  this  challenge  as  somewhat  of  an  indignity  put  upon 
him. 


/ 


44 


ΊΊΙΚ   ILJAIJ 


Unhappy  tliey  and  born  of  luckless  sires, 

λνΐιο  tempt  our  fury  wlien  Minerva  fires  ! 

But  if  from  heaven,  celestial,  thou  descend. 

Know,  with  immortals  we  no  more  contend. 

Kot  long  Lycurgus  viewed  the  golden  light, 

That  daring  man  who  mix^d  with  gods  in  fight. 

Bacchus  and  Bacchus'  votaries  he  drove 

With  brandish'd  steel  from  Xyssa's  sacred  grove  : 

Tlieir  consecrated  spears  lay  scatter'd  round, 

AVith  curling  vines  and  twisted  ivy  bound  ; 

While  Bacchus  headlong  sought  the  briny  flood. 

And  Thetis'  arms  received  the  trembling  god. 

Nor  fail'd  the  crime  th'  immortals'  wrath  to  move'j 

(Til'  immortals  bless'd  with  endless  ease  above)  ;    ^ 

Deprived  of  sight  by  their  avenging  doom, 

Clieerless  he  breath'd  and  v/anderd  in  the  gloom  : 

Then  sunk  unpitied  to  the  dire  abodes, 

A  wretch  accursVI  and  liated  by  the  god 

1  brave  not  heaven  ;  but  if  the  fruits  of  earth 

Sustain  thy  life,  and  human  be  thy  birth, 

Bold  as  thou  art,  too  prodigal  of  breath, 

Approach,  and  enter  the  dark  gates  of  death." 

"What,  or  from  whence  I  am,  or  wlio  my  sire 
(Replied  the  chief),  *• can  Tydeus'  son  inquire  ? 


:^ 


yy 


160 


170 


180 


100.  Contend.  As  Diomed  liud  so  recently  fought  with  the  gods, 
this  is  held  to  show  great  inconsistency  ;  but  Mr.  Lang  makes  light 
of  tlie  objection  {Homer  and  the  Epic,  pp.  110,  111). 

164.  The  austere  Lycurgus,  objecting  to  the  corrupting  worship 
of  Bacclius,  witii  its  revelry,  had  forcibly  driven  away  the  wine- 
god  and  his  Bacchantes  from  his  domains  ;  and  for  this  insolence 
against  an  immortal  he  was  made  blind  by  Zeus.  Look  up  the 
details. 

165.  Spears.  The  wrong  word  ;  the  reference  is  to  the  wands  or 
thyrsi,  wreathed  with  ivy  and  surmounted  by  a  pine  cone,  which 
were  carried  by  the  Bacchantes. 

\#   174.   Gods.  This  poor  rhyme,  following  close  npon  another  (find 
it),  suggests  that  we  should  look  into  Pope's  rhyming  again. 
176.  Life.  What  sustained  tlie  goils  ? 


190 


BOOK  VI  45 

Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found, 
Now  green  in  youth,  now  withVing  on  the  ground  : 
Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies  ; 
They  fall  successive  and  successive  rise  : 
So  generations  in  their  course  decay  ; 
So  flourish  these,  when  those  are  pass'd  away. 
But  if  thou  still  persist  to  search  my  birth, 
Then  hear  a  tale  that  fills  the  spacious  earth. 

*'  A  city  stands  on  Argos'  utmost  bound 
(Argos  the  fair,  for  warlike  steeds  renown'd) ; 
^olian  Sisyphus,  with  wisdom  bless'd, 
In  ancient  time  the  happy  walls  possess^. 
Then  caird  Ephyre  :  Glaucus  was  his  son. 
Great  Glaucus,  father  of  Bellerophon, 
AVho  o'er  the  sons  of  men  in  beauty  shin'd, 
Lov'd  for  that  valour  which  preserves  mankind. 
Then  mighty  Proetus  Argos'  sceptre  sway'd, 
AVliose  hard  commands  Bellerophon  obey'd. 
With  direful  jealousy  the  monarch  rag'd. 
And  the  brave  prince  in  numerous  toils  engaged. 
For  him  Antea  burn'd  >vith  lawless  flame. 
And  strove  to  tempt  him  from  the  paths  of  fame  : 
In  vain  she  tempted  the  relentless  youth, 
Endu'd  with  wisdom,  sacred  fear,  and  truth. 
Fir'd  at  his  scorn,  the  queen  to  Proetus  fled. 
And  begg'd  revenge  for  her  insulted  bed. 
Incens'd  he  heard,  resolving  on  his  fate  ; 
But  hospitable  laws  restrained  his  hate  : 
To  Lycia  the  devoted  youth  he  sent, 
AVith  tablets  seal'd,  that  told  his  dire  intent.  210 

182.  Ground.  The  simile  plays  an  important  part  in  Homer.  See 
Introiluction,  p.  xviii.  The  student  should  collate  and  compare 
instances,  and  note  their  characteristic  qualities. 

189.  Argos.  See  note  on  i.,  45. 

193.  Ephyre,     Afterwards  called  Corinth. 

201.  Laivless.     In  tlie  sense  of  unlawful. 

209.  Scan  this  line. 

210.  Tablets.     This  seeuis  to  im{)ly  that  some  kind  of  writing  was 


200 


!l• 


jijaBaaaiaMaasMBtefiasiiiiii^^ 


kMMi 


I 


46 


THM  ILIAD 


T\\ 


T\^ 


Now,  bless'd  by  ev'ry  pow'r  who  guards  the  good. 

The  cliief  arrived  at  Xaiithus'  silver  flood  : 

There  Lycia's  monarch  paid  him  lionours  due; 

Nine  davs  he  feasted,  and  nine  bulls  he  slew. 

But  when  tlie  tenth  bright  morning  orient  glow'd, 

The  faithful  youth  his  monarcirs  mandate  show'd  : 

The  fatal  tablets,  till  that  instant  seaTd, 

The  deathful  secret  to  the  king  reveal'd. 

First,  dire  Chimagra's  conquest  was  enjoined  : 

A  mingled  monster,  of  no  mortal  kind  ;  220 

Behind,  a  dragon's  fiery  tail  was  spread  ; 

A  goat's  rough  body  bore  a  lion's  head  ; 

Her  pitchy  nostrils  flaky  flames  expire  ; 

Her  gaping  throat  emits  infernal  fire. 

"This  pest  he  slaughtered  (for  he  read  the  skieSj 
And  trusted  heav'n's  informing  prodigies)  ;         [ 
Then  met  in  arms  the  Solvmsean  crew 
(Fiercest  of  men),  and  those  the  warrior  slew. 
Next  the  bold  Amazons'  whole  force  defied  ; 
And  conquer'd  still,  for  heav'n  was  on  his  side.  230 

known   to  the   Greeks,   but   scholars   differ  upon  this  point.      See 
Introduction,  p.  xiv. 

214.  It  was  the  rule  of  the  Greeks  to  entertain  strangers  gener- 
ously before  any  questions  were  asked.  See  Mahaffy's  Social  Life  in 
Greece^  p.  48  et  seq. 

215.  Again  we  lose  a  characteristic  epithet,  "the  rosy-fingered 
dawn,"  and  get  Pope's  "  bright  morning  orient"  in  exchange. 

219.  Chimmra,  a  divine  creature.  Compare  other  similar  crea- 
tions of  the  Greek  imagination.  Centaurs,  etc.  This  is  the  only 
instance  in  Homer  of  such  ujixed  monsters.     Cf.  i.,  527. 

223.  Expire.  In  the  Latin  sense,  breathe  forth.  Would  you 
regard  this  line  as  a  good  example  of  ouomato}xi4a  ? 

226.  Prodigies,  portents. 

227.  Crew.  Said  to  have  l)een  driven  out  of  Lycia  by  the  Lycians, 
who  fouud  them  there  on  going  to  settle. 

229.  Amazons,  λ  nation  ruled  bv  warlike  women,  to  whom  the 
woi-d  generally  refers.     Look  up. 


47 


239 


BOOK   VI 

"  Nor  ended  here  his  toils  :  his  Lycian  foes. 
At  his  return,  a  treach'roiis  ambusli  rose. 
With  levcll'd  spears  along  the  winding  shore  : 
There  fell  they  breathless,  and  returned  no  more. 
*•  At  length  the  monarch  with  repentant  grief 
Confess'd  the  gods  and  god-descended  cliief  ; 
His  daughter  gave,  the  stranger  to  detain, 
With  half  the  honours  of  his  ample  reign. 
The  Lycians  grant  a  chosen  space  of  ground, 
With  woods,  with  vineyards,  and  with  harvests  crown'd. 
There  long  the  chief  his  happy  lot  possess'd, 
With  two  brave  sons  and  one  fair  daughter  bless'd 
(Fair  ev'n  in  heav'nly  eyes  ;  her  fruitful  love 
Crown'd  with  Sarpedon's  birth  th'  embrace  of  Jove)  ; 
But  when  at  last,  distracted  in  his  mind, 

Forsook  by  heav'n,  forsaking  human  kind. 

Wide  o'er  th'  Aleian  field  he  chose  to  stray, 

A  long,  forlorn,  uncomfortable  way  ! 

Woes  heap'd  on  woes  consum'd  his  wasted  heart ; 

His  beauteous  daughter  fell  by  Phoebe's  dart ;  250 

His  eldest-born  by  raging  3Iars  was  slain. 

In  combat  on  the  Sulymaean  plain. 

Hippolochus  survived  ;  from  him  I  came. 

The  honour'd  author  of  my  birth  and  name; 

By  his  decree  I  sought  the  Trojan  town, 

By  his  instructions  learn  to  win  renown  ; 

To  stand  the  first  in  worth  as  in  command. 

To  add  new  honours  to  my  native  land, 

231.   Toils.    Compare  with  these  labors  those  of  Hercules  and  Jason. 
236.   Confess  d.     See  note  on  i.,  265. 
238.  lieign.     See  note  on  i.,  3. 

242.  Sons  and  daugJifer.     Homer  gives  their  names  :  Isandro.<, 
Ilippolochos,  and  Laodameia. 

243.  Her.     Laodameia's. 

244.  Sarpedon.     See  Introduction,  p.  xi. 

247.  Aleian  field.     The  "field  of  wandering,"  in  Cilicia. 

250.   Phoebe.     Artemis,  Diana  ;  represented  in  Homer  as  the  god- 
dess who  has  power  to  inflict  on  women  sudden  and  painless  death 
See  note  on  i.,  60  ;  vi.,  543  ;  xxiv.,  761. 


ff' 


48 


THE  ILIAD 


260 


270 


Before  my  eyes  my  mighty  sires  to  place, 
And  emulate  the  jrlories  of  our  race/' 

He  spoke,  and  transport  fill'd  Tydides'  heart ; 
In  earth  the  gen'rous  warrior  fix'd  his  dart ; 
Then  friendly,  thus,  the  Lycian  prince  addressed  : 
''  Welcome,  my  brave  hereditary  guest  I 
Thus  ever  let  us  meet,  with  kind  embrace, 
Nor  stain  the  sacred  friendship  of  our  race. 
Know,  chief,  our  grandsires  have  been  guests  of  old, 
(Eneus  the  strong,  Bellerophon  the  bold  ; 
Our  ancient  seat  his  honour'd  presence  grac'd. 
Where  twenty  days  in  genial  rites  he  passM. 
The  parting  heroes  mutual  presents  left  : 
A  golden  goblet  was  thy  grandsire's  gift ; 
(Eneus  a  belt  of  matchless  work  bestowed, 
That  rich  with  Tyrian  dye  refulgent  glow'd 
(This  from  his  pledge  I  learnM,  which,  safely  storM 
Among  my  treasures,  still  adorns  my  board : 
For  Tydeus  left  me  young,  when  Thebe's  ΛνπΙΙ 
Beheld  the  sons  of  Greece  untimely  fall). 
Mindful  of  this,  in  friendship  lot  us  join  ; 
If  heav'n  our  steps  to  foreign  lands  incline, 
My  guest  in  Argos  tliou,  and  I  in  Lycia  thine. 
Enough  of  Trojans  to  this  lance  shall  yield, 
In  the  full  harvest  of  yon  ample  field  ; 
Enough  of  Greeks  shall  dye  thy  spear  with  gore ; 
But  thou  and  Diomed  bo  foes  no  more. 
Now  change  we  arms,  and  prove  to  cither  host 
We  guard  the  friendship  of  tlie  line  we  boast.'* 

262.  All  iutiination  that  he  desired  to  refrain  from  hostilities. 
i/    2G4.  Shows   the   importaneo   attached   by  the   Greeks    to  guest- 
friendship. 
274.  Here  Pope  expands:  the  prose  reads  simply,  •*Oineus  gave 

a  belt  bright  with  purple." 
277,  278.   "When  the  Aehaian  host  perished  at  Thebes." 
279-281.  What  about  the  versification  here  ?    Is  the  rhyme  gooil  ? 

What  about  the  couplet  ?    A  little  farther  on  is  another  instance  of 

three  rhyming  lines.     Fiud  others  in  Book  xxiv. 


BOOK    VI 


280 


49 


Thus  having  said,  the  gallant  chiefs  alight, 
Their  hands  they  join,iheir  mutual  faith  they  plight  ; 
Brave  Glaucus  then  each  narrow  thought  resign'd        290 
(Jove  warm'd  his  bosom  and  enlarg'd  liis  mind)  : 
For  Diomed's  brass  arms,  of  mean  device, 
For  which  nine  oxen  paid  (a  vulgar  price), 
He  gave  his  own,  of  gold  divinely  wrought  : 
A  hundred  beeves  the  shining  purchase  bought. 

Meantime  the  guardian  of  the  Trojan  state, 
(freat  Hector,  enterVl  at  the  Sc^an  gate. 
Beneath  the  beech-tree's  consecrated  shades. 
The  Trojan  matrons  and  the  Trojan  maids 
Around  him  flock'd,  all  press'd  with  pious  care  300 

For  husbands,  brothers,  sons,  engaged  in  war. 
He  bids  the  train  in  long  procession  go. 
And  seek  the  gods,  t'  avert  th'  impending  woe. 
And  now  to  Priam's  stately  courts  he  came, 
Kais'd  on  arch'd  columns  of  stupendous  frame  ; 
O'er  these  a  range  of  marble  structure  runs. 
The  rich  pavilions  of  his  fifty  sons. 
In  fifty  chambers  lodg'd  :  and  rooms  of  state 
OpposM  to  those,  where  Pj-ianr s  daughters  sate  : 
Twelve  domes  for  them  and  their  lov'd  spouses  shone,  310 
Of  equal  beauty  and  of  polished  stone. 
Hither  great  Hector  pass'd,  nor  pass'd  unseen 
Of  royal  Hecuba,  his  mother  queen 

288.  Aligld.     From  their  chariots. 

291-295.  The  prose  puts  a  very  diiicrent  complexion  on  the  mat- 
ter. Ii  reads,  "  But  now  Zeus,  son  of  Kronos,  took  from  Glaukos  his 
wits"— so  foolish  is  the  exchange.  But  Cowper's  interpretation  is 
that  Glaucus,  impressed  by  the  lil)erality  shown  by  Belleroplioii  to 
a:iieus,  determined  not  to  fall  below  the  example  of  his  ancestor, 
and  tiiereforc  consented  to  an  exchange  so  very  unequal. 

297.  Sccean.  The  great  gate,  flanked  by  η  tower,  on  the  west  side 
of  Troy,  looking  toward  the  Grecian  camp. 

298.  Beech-free.  Should  be  oak-tree.  See  1.  551  and  note 
thereon. 

310.  Domes.     See  note  on  i.,  57C. 


i 


..  .«««M-.-Mr  I  „,  Hi  nmfffMlilin 


50 


THE  ILIAD 


(With  her  Laodieo,  whose  beauteous  face 
Surpassed  the  nymphs  of  Troy's  iUustrious  race). 
Long  in  a  strict  embrace  she  hekl  her  son, 
And  pressed  his  hand,  and  tender  thus  begun  : 

"  0  Hector  !  say,  what  great  occasion  calls 
My  son  from  fight,  when  Greece  surrounds  our  walls  ? 
Com'st  thou  to  supplicate  th'  almighty  pow'r,  320 

With  lifted  hands  from  Ilion's  lofty  tow'r  ? 
Stay,  till  I  bring  the  cup  with  Bacchus  crown'd. 
In  Jove's  high  name,  to  sprinkle  on  the  ground. 
And  pay  due  vows  to  all  the  gods  around. 
Then  with  a  plenteous  draught  refresh  thy  soul. 
And  draw  new  spirits  from  the  gen'rous  bowl ; 
Spent  as  thou  art  with  long  laborious  fight. 
The  brave  defender  of  thy  country's  right/' 

"  Far  hence  be  Bacchus'  gifts  "  (the  chief  rejoin'd)  ; 
'*  Inflaming  wine,  pernicious  to  mankind,  330 

Unnerves  the  limbs,  and  dulls  the  noble  mind. 
Let  chiefs  abstain,  and  spare  the  sacred  juice 
To  sprinkle  to  the  gods,  its  better  use. 
By  me  that  holy  office  were  prof  an 'd  ; 
III  fits  it  me,  with  human  gore  distain'd, 
To  the  pure  skies  these  horrid  hands  to  raise. 
Or  offer  heav'n's  great  sire  polluted  praise. 

314.   Laodic^,  her  daugliter. 

316.  Strict,  close  ;  from  a  Latin  word  meaning  to  draw  tight. 

821.  Toid'r,  eiladel. 

322.  Bacchus.  Another  instance  of  the  affected  classicism  of 
Pope's  time.  Iloniyr  says  nothing  about  Bacchus;  "honey-sweet 
wine"  is  the  prose  rendering.  The  generous  hotvl  is  another  un- 
Ilomeric  phrase. 

327.  Spent.     In  the  sense  of  wasted,  exhausted. 

331.  This  little  temperance  iiomily  is  Pojie's.  Compare  the  prose 
version. 

332.  Spare,  Be  sparing  of.  Of.  the  proverb  "Spare  the  rod," 
etc. 

3;]G.  Horrid.  Used  more  in  its  Ijatiu  sense  of  rough,  soiled,  un- 
sightly.    See  note  on  i.,  300. 


BOOK  VJ 


51 


You,  with  your  matrons,  go,  a  spotless  train  ! 

And  burn  rich  odours  in  Minerva's  fane. 

Tlie  largest  mantle  your  full  wardrobes  hold,  340 

Most  priz'd  for  art,  and  laboured  o'er  with  gold. 

Before  the  goddess'  honour'd  knees  be  spread. 

And  twelve  young  heifers  to  her  altar  led, 

8o  may  the  pow'r,  aton'd  by  fervent  pray'r, 

Our  wives,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare. 

And  far  avert  Tydides'  wasteful  ire. 

Who  mows  whole  troops,  and  makes  all  Troy  retire. 

Be  this,  0  mother,  your  religious  care  ; 

I  go  to  rouse  soft  Paris  to  the  war  : 

If  yet,  not  lost  to  all  the  sense  of  shame,  350 

The  recreant  warrior  hear  the  voice  of  fame. 

Oh  would  kind  earth  the  hateful  wretch  embrace. 

That  pest  of  Troy,  that  ruin  of  our  race  ! 

Deep  to  the  dark  abyss  might  he  descend, 

Troy  yet  should  flourish,  and  my  sorrows  end." 

This  heard,  she  gave  command  ;  and  summon'd  came  " 
Each  noble  matron  and  illustrious  dame. 
The  Phrygian  queen  to  her  rich  wardrobe  went, 
AVhere  treasur'd  odours  breath'd  a  costly  scent. 
There  lay  the  vestures  of  no  vulgar  art,  360 

Sidonian  maids  embroider'd  ev'ry  part. 
Whom  from  soft  Sidon  youthful  Paris  bore. 
With  Helen  touching  on  the  Tyrian  shore. 
Here  as  the  queen  revolv'd  with  careful  eyes 
The  various  textures  and  the  various  dyes, 

347.  These  lines  repeat  114-120,  above. 

351.  Fame.     See  line  59. 

353.  Pest,  bane.     Cf.  pestitence. 

363.  According  to  the  legend,  Paris  and  Helen,  on  their  way 
from  Sparta  to  Troy,  were  driven  by  storms  to  Egypt;  and  going 
thence  to  Troy,  they  put  in  at  Sidon.  The  maids  were  carried  olf 
by  Paris  with  other  plunder.  The  Sidonians  Λvere  very  skilful 
artificers. 

364.  Λβΐ'θΖι»'ί?,  considered  carefully;  '•  turned  over  "  in  her  mind, 
A  Latin  expression. 


m 


TEE  ILIAD 


She  chose  a  veil  that  shone  superior  far. 

And  glow'd  refulgent  as  the  morning  star. 

Herself  with  this  the  long  procession  leads  ; 

The  train  majestically  slow  proceeds. 

Soon  as  to  Ilion's  topmost  tow'r  they  come,  370 

And  awful  reach  the  high  Palladian  dome, 

Antenor's  consort,  fair  Theano,  waits 

As  Pallas'  priestess,  and  unbars  the  gates. 

Wil;h  hands  uplifted  and  imploring  eyes. 

They  fdl  the  dome  with  supplicating  cries. 

The  priestess  then  the  shining  veil  displays. 

Placed  on  Minerva's  knees,  and  thus  she  prays  : 

*'  0  awful  goddess  !  ever-dreadful  maid, 
Troy's  strong  defence,  nnconquer'd  Pallas,  aid  I 
Break  thou  Tyd ides'  spear,  and  let  him  fall  380 

Prone  on  the  dust  before  the  Trojan  wall. 
So  twelve  young  heifers,  guiltless  of  the  yoke. 
Shall  fill  thy  temple  with  a  grateful  smoke. 
But  thou,  aton'd  by  penitence  and  pray'r. 
Ourselves,  our  infants,  and  our  city  spare  \'* 
So  pray'd  the  priestess  in  her  holy  fane  ; 
So  vow'd  the  matrons,  but  they  vow'd  in  vain.  ' 

AVhile  these  appear  before  the  pow'r  Avith  pray'rs. 
Hector  to  Paris'  lofty  dome  repairs. 

Himself  the  mansion  rais'd,  from  every  part  390 

Assembling  architects  of  matchless  art. 

367.  Ghnv'd  refulgent.  This  phrase  has  occurred  before.  It  is 
very  characteristic  of  Pui)€'s  more  poivif)ous,  decorative  manner. 

369.  This  oiiomatopoetic  lino  is  another  piece  of  Pope's  em- 
broidery. 

371.  Palladia^  dome,  Minerva's  temple.  Palladian  is  derived 
from  Pallas.     Dome  lias  been  used  in  this  sense  liefore. 

372.  Theano,  sister  of  Hecuba,  and  daughter  of  Cisseus,  aThracian 
prince. 

382.  Guiltless  of  the  yoke,  never  harnessed  for  labor. 

383.  Grateful,  pleasing. 

384.  Afon'd,     See  note  on  i,  Θ0. 


400 


BOOK  VI  53 

Near  Priam's  court  and  Hector's  palace  stands 
The  pompous  structure,  and  the  town  commands. 
A  spear  the  hero  bore  of  wond'rous  strength  : 
Of  full  ten  cubits  was  the  lance's  length  ; 
The  steely  point,  with  golden  ringlets  join'd, 
Before  him  brandish'd,  at  each  motion  shin'd. 
Thus  ent'ring,  in  the  glitt'ring  rooms  he  found 
His  brother-chief,  whose  useless  arms  lay  round. 
His  eyes  delighting  with  their  splendid  show, 
Bright'ning  the  shield,  and  polishing  the  bow. 
Beside  him  Helen  with  her  virgins  stands. 
Guides  their  rich  labours,  and  instructs  their  hands. 

Him  thus  inactive,  with  an  ardent  look 
The  prince  beheld,  and  high-resenting  spoke  : 
**Thy  hate  to  Troy  is  this  the  time  to  show 
(0  wretch  ill-fated  and  thy  country's  foe)  ? 
Paris  and  Greece  against  us  both  conspire, 
Thv  close  resentment,  and  their  vengeful  ire. 
For  thee  great  Hion's  guardian  heroes  fall. 
Till  heaps  of  dead  alone  defend  her  wall ;      * 
For  thee  the  soldier  bleeds,  the  matron  mourns. 
And  wasteful  war  in  all  its  fury  burns. 
Ungrateful  man  !  deserves  not  this  thy  care. 
Our  troops  to  hearten  and  our  toils  to  share  ? 
Rise,  or  behold  the  conqu'ring  flames  ascend. 
And  all  the  Phrygian  glories  at  an  end." 

395.  Ten  cubits.     That   is,   about  sixteen   feet  long.     This  was 
probably  no  exaggeration. 

396.  Ringlets,  rings  to  hold  the  head  of  the  spear  in  its  place,  and 
to  prevent  the  wooden  sliaft  from  splitting. 

394-401.  What  impression  do  these  lines  convey  of  the  character 
of  Paris  ? 

403.  Hands.    As  they  work  at  the  loom. 

404.  Ardent,  angry;    his  eye  burning  or  flashing  with   indigna- 
tion. 

405.  This  is  one  of  several  faulty  rhymes  that  have  occurred  in 
this  book.     Enumerate  them. 

409.   Close,  secret  ;  cf.  closet. 


410 


if 


\\ 


ii 


54 


ΤΠΕ  ILIAD 


II 

m 

4 


**  Brotlier,  'tis  just  "  (replied  the  beanteoiis  youth)  ; 
**Thy  free  remonstrance  proves  thy  worth  and  truth  : 
Yet  charge  my  absence  less,  0  generous  chief,  420 

On  hate  to  Troy  than  conscious  shame  and  grief  : 
Here,  hid  from  human  eyes,  thy  brother  sate. 
And  mounr'd  in  secret  his  and  II ion's  fate. 
'Tis  now  enough  :  now  glory  spreads  her  charms. 
And  beauteous  Helen  calls  her  chief  to  arms. 
Con(juest  to-day  my  happier  sword  may  bless, 
/^'Tis  man's  to  fight,  but  heav'n's  to  give  success. 
But  while  I  arm,  contain  thy  ardent  mind  ; 
Or  go,  and  Paris  shall  not  lag  behind.'' 

He  said,  nor  answer'd  Priam's  warlike  sou  ;  430 

When  Helen  thus  with  lowly  grace  begun  : 
''  0  gen'rous  brother  !  if  the  guilty  dame 
That  caus'd  these  woes  deserve  a  sister's  name  ! 
Would  heav'n,  ere  all  these  dreadful  deeds  were  done, 
Tiie  day  that  show'd  me  to  the  golden  sun 
Had  seen  my  death  !     AVhy  did  not  whirlwinds  bear 
The  fatal  infant  to  the  fowls  of  air  ? 
Why  sunk  I  not  beneath  the  whelming  tide, 
And  midst  the  roarings  of  the  waters  died  ? 
Heav'n  fill'd  up  all  my  ills,  and  I  accurst  440 

Bore  all,  and  Paris  of  those  ills  the  worst. 

405-418.  In  this  speech  of  Hector's  Homer  i»  much  more  brief  and 
direct.     Note  the  alliterations. 

420,  421.  By  reason  of  his  defeat  by  ^lenolaus.  See  Argument  to 
Book  iii. 

425.  Suggests  again,  the  fatal  jwwer  of  Helen's  beauty,  cause  of  all 
the  trouble ;  "  the  face  "  that,  as  Marlowe  says,  *'  launche<l  a  thousand 
ships,  and  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium."  One  might  also  apply 
Morris's  expressive  lines  on  the  beauteous  Atalanta: 

*Too  fair  for  one  to  look  on  and  be  glad, 
Too  fair  to  let  the  world  live  free  from  war." 


BOOK    VI 


55 


/ 


427.   Pope's  epigrammatic  style  is  obvious  again;  it  is  effective,  to 
be  sure,  in  its  way;  but  not  Homeric. 
432-436.   Xote  Helen's  (^Mjin^nant  anguish  of  remoi-se. 
436.    Whirlwinds,  storm-winds;  symbolized  in  the  Harpies. 


\ 


450 


Helen  at  least  a  hraver  spouse  might  claim, 
Warm'd  with  some  virtue,  some  regard  of  fame  ! 
Now,  tir'd  with  toils,  thy  fainting  limbs  recline, 
AVith  toils  sustain'd  for  Paris'  sake  and  mine  : 
The  gods  have  link'd  our  miserahle  doom,  ^ 

Our  present  woe  and  infamy  to  come  : 
Wide  shall  it  spread,  and  last  through  ages  long. 
Example  sad  !  and  theme  of  future  song  I" 

The  chief  replied  :  ''  This  time  forbids  to  rest  : 
The  Trojan  bands,  by  hostile  fury  press'd. 
Demand  their  Hector,  and  his  arm  require  ; 
The  combat  nrges,  and  my  soul's  on  fire. 
Urge  thou  thy  knight  to  march  where  glory  calls. 
And  timely  join  me,  e'er  I  leave  the  walls. 
E'er  yet  I  mingle  in  the  direful  fray. 
My  wife,  my  infant,  claim  a  moment's  stay; 
This  day  (perhaps  the  last  that  sees  me  here) 
Demands  a  parting  word,  a  tender  tear  : 
This  day  some  god  who  hates  our  Trojan  land 
May  vanquish  Hector  by  a  Grecian  hand." 

He  said,  and  pass'd  with  sad  presaging  heart 
To  seek  his  spouse,  his  soul's  far  dearer  part  ; 
At  home  he  sought  her,  but  he  sought  in  vain  : 
She,  with  one  maid  of  all  her  menial  train. 
Had  thence  retired  ;  and,  with  her  second  joy. 
The  young  Astyanax,  the  hope  of  Troy, 

449.  Future  song.  Had  Homer  here  a  prophetic  sense  of  the 
immortality  of  his  song;  some  such  sublime  assurance  that  he  was 
siniring  for  the  ages  as  Shakspere  expresses  in  his  sonnets  ? 

458.  A  true  premonition.  He  never  enters  the  city  again  after 
leaving  it  this  day. 

463.  Dearer  part.  The  scene  has  emphasized  the  contrast  between 
Hector's  noble,  manly,  affectionate  spirit,  and  Paris's  craven,  selfish 
spirit. 

466.  Second  joy.  Pope,  of  course  ;  Homer  does  not  use  these 
roundabout  phrases.     What  does  Pope  mean  by  it  ? 

467.  Astyanax,  "defender  of  the  city."  "Hector"  means 
"keeper"  or  "protector."  The  father's  characteristic  is  therefore 
handed  on  to  the  son.     See  lines  501-503. 


460 


l• 


fil'i,tJj-Jiailiaiilittt3r'lb^t*r-i7   »&  %  ύ'!:"ίΜί.ύΐΛ•1ΐιΛΛ.ιΤ,\,ι  -J  Ζί^Μ^ΜΛί-ϋΆ,Η'ί-ΑηΛ^ι. 


^ff 


56 


dJJJbt    JJ^IAJJ 


Pensive  she  stood  on  Ilion's  towVy  heiglit, 

Beheld  the  war,  and  sicken'd  at  the  siglit  ; 

There  her  sad  eyes  in  vain  her  lord  explore,  /  470 

Or  weep  the  wounds  her  bleeding  country  bore. 

But  he  who  found  not  whom  liis  soul  desir'd, 
AYhose  virtue  charm'd  him  as  her  beautv  fir'd. 
Stood  in  the  gates,  and  ask'd  Avhat  way  she  bent 
Her  parting  steps  ;  if  to  the  fane  she  went. 
Where  late  the  mourning  matrons  made  resort. 
Or  sought  her  sisters  in  tlie  Trojan  court. 
*'  Not  to  the  court"  (replied  th'  attendant  train), 
*']Vor,  mix'd  with  matrons,  to  Minerva's  fane  : 
To  Ilion's  steepy  tow'r  she  bent  her  way,  480 

To  mark  the  fortunes  of  the  doubtful  day. 
Troy  fled,  she  heard,  before  the  Grecian  sword  ; 
She  heard,  and  trembled  for  her  distant  lord  : 
Distracted  with  surprise,  she  seemM  to  fly. 
Fear  on  her  cheek  and  sorrow  in  lier  eye. 
The  nurse  attended  with  her  infant  boy. 
The  young  Astyanax,  the  hope  of  Troy." 

Hector,  this  heard,  returned  without  delay  ; 
Swift  through  the  town  he  trod  his  former  way. 
Through  streets  of  palaces  and  walks  of  state,  490 

And  met  the  mourner  at  the  Scaean  gate. 
With  haste  to  meet  him  sprung  the  joyful  fair, 
His  blameless  wife,  Eetion'a  wealthy  heir 

469-473.  Pope's  trimmings.  Lines  473,  4Ϊ3  give  his  periphrasis 
for  Ilomer's  "  white-armed  Androinaehe." 

470.  Explore.     See  i.,  84,  135. 

475.  Parling.     For  departing.     (  7'.  Gray's  Elegy,  line  1. 

480.  Steepy.     Used  by  Stiakspero  and  other  poets  for  "steep." 

484.  Distracted  with  surprise,  A  poor  substitute  for  "like  unto 
one  frenzied." 

48o.  Not  in  the  original.  All  such  tawdry  orTiamentations  justify 
the  term  "  rococo,"  so  frequently  applied  to  the  poetic  style  of  Pope 
And  his  contemporaries. 

493.  Blameless  wife.  The  wliole  passage  illustrates  Jebb's  state- 
ment that  "the  tiai  of  the  fmnily  arc  sacred  in  every  relation, — 


500 


510 


BOOK  VI  57 

(Cilician  Theb^  great  Eetion  sway'd, 
And  Hippoplacus'  wide-extended  shade)  : 
The  nnrse  stood  near,  in  whose  embraces  pressed 
His  only  hope  hung  smiling  at  her  breast. 
Whom  each  soft  charm  and  early  grace  adorn. 
Fair  as  the  new-born  star  that  gilds  the  morn. 
To  this  lovM  infant  Hector  gave  the  name 
Scamandrius,  from  Scamander's  honour'd  stream  ; 
Astyanax  the  Trojans  calFd  the  boy. 
From  his  great  father,  the  defence  of  Troy. 
Silent  the  warrior  smiFd,  and  pleas'd,  resign'd 
To  tender  passions  all  his  mighty  mind  : 
His  beauteous  princess  cast  a  mournful  look. 
Hung  on  his  hand,  and  then  dejected  spoke  ; 
Her  bosom  labour'd  with  a  boding  sigh. 
And  the  big  tear  stood  trembling  in  her  eye. 

''  Too  daring  prince  !  ah  whither  dost  thou  run  ? 
Ah  too  forgetful  of  thy  wife  and  son  ! 
And  think'st  thou  not  how  wretched  we  shall  be, 
A  widow  I,  a  helpless  orphan  lie  ! 
For  sure  such  courage  length  of  life  denies. 
And  thou  must  fall,  thy  virtue's  sacrifice. 
Greece  in  her  single  heroes  strove  in  vain  ; 
Now  hosts  oppose  thee,  and  thou  must  be  slain  ! 
Oh  grant  me,  gods  !  e'er  Hector  meets  his  doom, 
All  I  can  ask  of  heav'n,  an  early  tomb  ! 
So  shall  my  days  in  one  sad  tenor  run, 
And  end  with  sorrows  as  they  first  begun. 

between  husband  and  wife,  parent  and  eliild,  kinsman  and  kinsman. 
Polygamy  is  not  found  among  Greeks."  This  and  other  instances 
"attest  a  pure  and  tender  conception  of  conjugal  affection." 

495.  See  i.,  478,  479. 

496.  Note  in  this  and  other  references  to  the  child,  the  feeling  of 
.  appreciation  for  the  charms  of  childhood.     The  subject  is  treated  in 

Scudder's  Childhood  in  Literature  and  Art. 

501.  Scamander  was  a  local  river-god. 

514,  515.  Expand  these  condensed  hnes  so  as  to  show  their  mean- 
ing. 


520 


I' 


iiiiiiiaiiiiilliiiUHiiiiHeitgdii 


m 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK   VI 


59 


Ko  parent  now  remains,  my  griefs  to  share. 

No  father's  aid,  no  mother's  tender  care. 

The  fierce  Achilles  wrapt  our  walls  in  fire. 

Laid  Tliebo  waste,  and  slew  my  warlike  sire  ! 

His  fate  compassion  in  the  victor  bred  ; 

Stern  as  he  was,  he  yet  rever'd  the  dead. 

His  radiant  arms  preserv'd  from  hostile  spoil, 

And  laid  him  decent  on  tlie  fun'ral  pile ;  529 

Then  rais'd  a  mountain  where  his  bones  were  burn'd  : 

The  mountain  nymphs  the  rural  tomb  adorn\l  ; 

Jove's  sylvan  daughters  bade  their  elms  bestow 

A  barren  shade,  and  in  his  honour  grow. 

**  By  the  same  arm  my  seven  brave  brothers  fell  ; 

In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  gates  of  hell  : 

While  the  fat  herds  and  snowy  flocks  they  fed. 

Amid  their  fields  the  hapless  heroes  bled  ! 

My  mother  liv'd  to  bear  the  victor's  bands. 

The  queen  of  Hippoplacia's  sylvan  lands  : 

Bedeem'd  too  late,  she  scarce  beheld  again  540 

Her  pleasing  empire  and  her  native  plain, 

When,  i\h  I  oppressed  by  life-consuming  woe. 

She  fell  a  victim  to  Diana's  bow. 

*'Yet  while  my  Hector  still  survives,  I  see 

My  father,  mother,  brethren,  all,  in  thee  : 

528-530.  "  Burnt  him  in  his  inlaid  armor,  and  raised  a  barrow  over 
him." 

530.  Homer  write-,  u-  Arnold  has  remarked,  with  his  eye  on  the 
object  he  mentions,  while  Pope  never  (lo€'s.  Here  the  commonplace 
"fat  herds"  suffices  for  Homer's  realistic  "kine  of  trailing  (or 
shamblinij)  gait. " 

539.  Eippoplacia.  Another  name  for  Thebe,  from  Plakos,  β  moun- 
tain above  that  city,  the  birthplace  of  Andromache.  See  1.  495, 
and  xxii.,  Oil. 

543.  That  is,  died  a  sudden  death.  Apollo  was  held  to  be  the 
cause  of  such  deaths  in  the  case  of  men,  as  his  sister  was  in  the  case 
of  Avomen.     Sec  i.,  CO  ;  vi.,  250. 

545.  Pope  weakens  the  meaning  here.  After  describing  her 
orphaned  state,  Andromache,  showing  the  depth  of  her  wifely  aflfec- 


550 


560 


Alas  !  my  parents,  brothers,  kindred,  all 
Once  more  will  perish  if  my  Hector  fall. 
Thy  wife,  thy  infant,  in  thy  danger  share  : 
Oh  prove  a  husband's  and  a  father's  care  ! 
That  quarter  most  the  skilful  Greeks  annoy. 
Where  yon  wild  fig-trees  join  the  wall  of  Troy  : 
Thou  from  this  tovv'r  defend  th'  important  post. 
There  Agamemnon  points  his  dreadful  host, 
That  pass  Tydides,  Ajax,  strive  to  gain, 
And  there  the  vengeful  Spartan  fires  his  train. 
Thrice  our  bold  foes  the  fierce  attack  have  giv'n, 
Or  led  by  hopes,  or  dictated  from  heav'n. 
Let  others  in  the  field  their  arms  employ. 
But  stay  my  Hector  here,  and  guard  his  Troy/' 
fThe  chief  replied  :  '*  That  post  shall  be  my  care, 
Nor  that  alone,  but  all  the  works  of  war. 
i  <H     How  would  the  sons  of  Troy,  in  arms  renown'd, 
^  /     And  Troy's   proud   dames,   Avhose   garments   sweep   the 
ground. 
Attaint  the  lustre  of  my  former  name. 
Should  Hector  basely  quit  the  field  of  fame  ? 
My  early  youth  was  bred  to  martial  pains. 
My  soul  impels  me  to  th'  embattled  plains  : 
Let  me  be  foremost  to  defend  the  throne. 
And  guard  my  father's  glories  and  my  own. 
Yet  come  it  Λνϋΐ,  the  day  decreed  by  fates 
(How  my  heart  trembles  while  my  tongue  relates  !)  : 
The  day  when  thou,  imperial  Troy  !  must  bend. 
And  see  thy  warriors  fall,  thy  glories  end. 

tion,  says  :  '*Nay,  Hector,  thou  art  to  me  father  and  lady  mother, 
yea,' and  brother,  even  as  thou  art  my  goodly  husband." 

551.  These  trees,  like  certain  oak  trees  mentioned  elsewhere  (vi., 
298),  are  several  times  referred  to  as  landmarks.     See  xxii.,  193. 
557.  How  must  didafed  be  accented  here  ? 
/    ^  ^70.  Here  again  the  fatalism  of  the  (3 reeks  is  brought  into  relief. 
^''^ee  vi.,  626  ;  also  note  on  i.,  461. 


570 


J     f 

-a  τ 


60 


THE  ILTAD 


\ 


And  yet  no  dire  presage  so  wounds  my  mind, 

My  mother's  death,  tlie  ruin  of  my  kind. 

Not  Priam's  hoary  hairs  defiled  with  gore, 

Not  all  my  brothers  gasping  on  tiie  shore. 

As  thine,  Andromache  !  thy  griefs  I  dread  : 

I  see  thee  trembling,  weeping,  captive  led  ! 

In  Argive  looms  our  battles  to  design,  580 

And  woes  of  which  so  large  a  part  was  thine  ! 

To  bear  the  victor's  liard  commands,  or  bring 

The  weight  of  waters  from  Ilyperia's  spring. 

There,  while  you  groan  beneatli  the  load  of  life. 

They  cry,  '  Behold  the  mighty  Hector's  wife  I' 

Some  haughty  Greek,  who  lives  thy  tears  to  see. 

Embitters  all  thy  woes  by  naming  me. 

The  thoughts  of  glory  past  and  present  shame, 

A  thousand  griefs,  shall  waken  at  the  name  1 

May  I  lie  cold  before  that  dreadful  day,  590 

Press'd  with  a  load  of  monumental  clay  ! 

Thy  Hector,  wrapped  in  everlasting  sleep. 

Shall  neither  hear  thee  sigh,  nor  see  thee  weep." 

Thus  having  spoke,  th'  illustrious  chief  of  Troy 
Stretcli'd  his  fond  arms  to  clasp  the  lovely  boy. 
The  babe  clung  crying  to  liis  nurse's  breast, 
Scar'd  at  the  dazzling  helm  and  nodding  crest. 
With  secret  pleasure  each  fond  parent  smil'd. 
And  Hector  hasted  to  relieve  his  child ; 

578.  Note,  as  further  evidence  of  deep  conjugal  affection,  that 
Hector  grieves  chiefly  at  the  thought  of  a  doleful  future  for  Androm- 
ache. Later  legend  said  that  Andromaclio  fell  as  a  prize  to  Xeop- 
tolemus,  Achilles'  son. 

583.  Slaves  were  very  generally  employed  as  **  drawers  of  water." 
Hyperia,  a  fountain  in  Messenia. 

5ϋ1.  Monumental,  used  as  a  moniiineEt.  (7/.  Milton's  **monu. 
mental  oake,"  //  Peuseroso,  l;i5. 
|/  594.  The  following  beautiful  passage  shows  Pope  at  his  best,  in 
spite  of  unfortunate  departures  from  the  simplicity  and  directness  of 
the  original,  such  as  1.  6(M),  which  reads  in  the  prose,  "He  took  the 
Jiolmet  from  his  head." 


BOOK  VI 

The  glitt'ring  terrors  from  his  brows  unbound. 
And  plac'd  the  beaming  helmet  on  the  ground. 
Then  kiss'd  the  child,  and,  lifting  high  in  air, 
Thus  to  the  gods  preferred  a  father's  pray'r  : 

"  0  thou  !  whose  glory  fills  th'  ethereal  throne. 
And  all  ye  deathless  pow'rs !  protect  my  son  ! 
Grant  him,  like  me,  to  purchase  just  renown, 
To  guard  the  Trojans,  to  defend  the  crown, 
Against  his  country's  foes  the  war  to  wage, 
And  rise  the  Hector  of  the  future  age  ! 
So  when,  triumphant  from  successful  toils, 
Of  heroes  slain  he  bears  the  reeking  spoils, 
AVhole  hosts  may  hail  him  with  deserv'd  acclaim. 
And  say,  'This  chief  transcends  his  father's  fame '  : 
AVhile  pleas'd,  amidst  the  gen'ral  shouts  of  Troy, 
His  mother's  conscious  heart  o'erflows  with  joy." 

He  spoke,  and  fondly  gazing  on  her  charms, 
Restor'd  the  pleasing  burthen  to  her  arms  ; 
Soft  on  her  fragrant  breast  the  babe  she  laid, 
Hush'd  to  repose,  and  with  a  smile  survey'd. 
The  troubled  pleasure  soon  chastis'd  by  fear. 
She  mingled  with  the  smile  a  tender  tear. 
The  soften'd  chief  with  kind  compassion  view'd. 
And  dried  the  falling  drops,  and  thus  pursued  : 

^'Andromache  !  my  soul's  far  better  part, 
AVhy  with  untimely  sorrows  heaves  thy  heart  ? 
No  hostile  hand  can  antedate  my  doom^ 
Till  fate  condemns  me  to  the  silent  tomb. 
Fix'd  is  the  term  to  all  the  race  of  earth, 
And  sucli  the  liard  condition  of  our  birth. 
No  force  can  then  resist,  no  flight  can  save ; 
All  sink  alike,  the  fearful  and  the  brave. 


61 


600 


CIO 


620 


it 


630 


G03.  Preferred.     In  its  Latin  sense  of  offered  up. 

606.  Purchase,  earn,  win,  with  no  reference  to  money. 

625-631.  Pope's  sermon  is  longer  than  Homer's.  Hector's  mean- 
ing is  that,  although  he  is  doomed  to  die,  he  cannot  lose  his  life 
before  the  api)oinled  hour.     Cf.  i.,  543  et  seq. 


62 


THE  ILIAD 


Xo  more — but  liasteii  to  tliy  tasks  at  home, 
There  guide  the  spindle,  and  direct  the  loom  : 
Me  glory  summons  to  the  martial  scene. 
The  field  of  combat  is  tlie  sphere  for  men. 
Where  heroes  war,  the  foremost  place  I  claim. 
The  first  in  danger  as  the  first  in  fame/'    / 

Thus  having  said,  the  glorious  chief  resumes 
His  tow'ry  lielmot,  black  with  shading  plumes. 
His  princess  parts  with  a  prophetic  sigh,  C4.0 

Unwilling  parts,  and  oft  reverts  her  eye. 
That  streamed  at  cv'ry  look  :  then,  moving  slow. 
Sought  her  own  palace,  and  indulg'd  her  woe. 
There,  while  her  tears  deplor'd  the  godlike  man, 
Tiirough  all  her  train  the  soft  infection  ran  : 
The  pious  maids  their  mingled  sorrows  shed. 
And  mourn  the  living  Hector  as  the  dead. 

But  now,  no  longer  deaf  to  honour's  call, 
Forth  issues  Paris  from  the  palace  wall. 
In  brazen  arms  that  cast  a  gleamy  ray,  650 

Swift  through  the  town  the  warrior  bends  his  way. 
The  wanton  courser  thus,  with  reins  unbound, 
Breaks  from  his  stall,  and  beats  the  trembling  ground  ; 
Pamper'd  and  proud,  he  seeks  the  wonted  tides. 
And  laves,  in  height  of  blood,  his  shining  sides  : 
His  head,  now  freed,  he  tosses  to  the  skies  ; 
His  mane  dishevell'd  o'er  his  shoulders  flies  ; 
He  snuffs  the  females  in  the  distant  plain. 
And  springs,  exulting,  to  his  fields  again. 
Witli  equal  triumph,  sprightly,  bold,  and  gay,  660 

In  arms  refulgent  as  the  god  of  day, 

632.  That  is,  drive  away  sorrowful  thoughts  by  work. 
6:]8.  Resumes.     Cf.  i.,";]9a. 
040-647.  Compai-c  witli  the  prose,  and  criticise. 
652.    Wanton,  unrostrainea.     6/,  Milton's  ''wanton  wiles."  VAt- 
legro,  27. 

652.  The  force  of  the  simile  is  abated  by  a  weak  introtluction. 
655.  In  height  of  blood,  exult iugly. 


670 


BOOK   VII  63 

The  son  of  Priam,  glorying  in  his  might, 
RushM  forth  with  Hector  to  the  fields  of  fight. 

And  now  the  warriors  passing  on  the  way. 
The  graceful  Paris  first  excus'd  his  stay. 
To  whom  the  noble  Hector  thus  replied  : 
''  0  chief,  in  blood,  and  now  in  arms,  allied  ! 
Thy  pow'r  in  war  with  justice  none  contest ; 
Known  is  thy  courage  and  thy  strength  confess'd. 
AVhat  pity,  sloth  should  seize  a  soul  so  brave. 
Or  godlike  Paris  live  a  woman's  slave  ! 
My  heart  weeps  blood  at  what  the  Trojans  say, 
And  hopes  thy  deeds  shall  wipe  the  stain  away. 
Haste  then,  in  all  their  glorious  labours  share; 
For  much  they  suffer,  for  thy  sake,  in  war. 
These  ills  shall  cease,  whene'er  by  Jove's  decree 
We  crown  the  bowl  to  Heav'n  and  Liberty  : 
While  the  proud  foe  his  frustrate  triumphs  mourns, 
And  Greece  indignant  through  her  seas  returns." 

669.  Confess'd.    Used  as  in  Book  i.     See  vi.,  236. 
676.  The  ending  is  weak.     Cf.  the  prose  version. 

BOOK   VII. 

THE  SINGLE  COMBAT  OF  HECTOR  AND  AJAX. 

The  battle  renewing  with  double  ardour  upon  the  return  of  Hector, 
Minerva  is  under  apprehensions  for  the  Greeks.  Apollo,  seeing  her 
descend  from  Olympus,  joins  her  near  the  ScHPan  gate.  They  agree  to 
put  off  the  general  engagement  for  that  day,  and  incite  Hector  to 
challenge  the  Greeks  to  a  single  combat.  Nine  of  the  princes  accept- 
in«r  the'Ohallenge,  the  lot  is  cast,  and  falls  upon  AJax.  These  heroes, 
at'er  several  attacks,  are  parted  by  the  night.  The  Trojans  calling 
a  council,  Antenor  proposes  the  delivery  of  Helen  to  the  Greeks,  to 
which  Paris  will  not  consent,  but  offers  to  restore  them  her  riches. 
Priam  sends  a  herald  to  make  this  offer,  and  to  demand  a  truce  for 
burning  the  dead,  the  last  of  which  only  is  agreed  to  by  Agamemnon. 
When  the  funerals  are  performed,  the  Greeks,  pursuant  to  the  advice 
of  Nestor,  erect  a  fortification  to  protect  their  fleet  and  camp,  flanked 
with  towers,  and  defended  by  a  ditch  and  palisades.     Neptune  tesli- 


\ 


64 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  XI 


65 


fies  his  jealousy  at  this  work,  but  is  paeiiied  by  a  promise  from 
Jupiter.  Both  armies  pass  the  uiglit  in  feasting,  but  Jupiter  dis- 
heartens the  Trojans  with  thunder  and  other  signs  of  his  wrath. 

The  threc-an(l-twentieth  day  ends  with  the  duel  of  fleetor  and 
Ajax  ;  the  ne.xt  day  the  truce  is  agreed  :  another  is  taken  up  in  the 
funeral  rites  of  the  slain  ;  and  one  more  in  building  the  fortification 
before  tlie  ships  ;  so  that  somewiuit  above  three  days  is  employed  in 
this  book.     The  scene  lies  wholly  in  the  field.        ""        ~~ 


) 


BOOK   VIII. 

THE   ftKCOND  BATTLE   AND  THE   DISTRESS   OF   THE   GREEKS. 

Jupiter  assembles  a  council  of  the  deities,  and  threatens  them  with 
the  pains  of  Tartarus,  if  they  assist  either  side:  Minerva  only  obtains 
of  him  that  she  may  direct  the  Greeks  by  her  counsels.  The  armies 
join  battle  ;  Jupiter  on  Mount  Ida  weighs  in  his  balances  the  fates  of 
both,  and  affrights  the  Greeks  with  his  thunders  and  lightnings. 
Nestor  alone  continues  in  the  field  in  great  danger  ;  Diomed  relieves  \ 
liim,  whose  exploits,  and  those  of  Hector,  are  excellently  described,  β 
Juno  endeavours  to  animate  Neptune  to  the  assistance  of  the  Greeks, 
but  in  vain.  Tl>c  acts  of  Teucer,  who  is  at  length  wounded  by  lice 
tor,  and  carried  oft.  Juno  and  Minerva  prepare  to  aid  the  Grecians, 
but  are  restrained  by  iris,  sent  from  Jupiter.  The  night  puts  an  end 
to  the  battle.  Hector  continues  in  the  field  (the  Greeks  bemg  driven 
to  their  fortifications  ])efore  the  ships),  and  gives  orders  to  keep  the 
watch  all  night  in  the  camp,  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  reimbarking 
and  escaping  by  flight.  They  kinulc  fires  through  all  the  field,  and 
pass  the  night  under  arms. 

The  time  of  seven-and-twenty  days  is  employed  from  the  opening 
of  the  poem  to  the  end  of  this  book.  The  scene  here  (except  of  the 
celestial  machines)  lies  in  the  field  toward  the  sea-shore. 


BOOK   IX. 

THE   EMBABSY  TO   ACFIiLLES. 

Agamemnon,  after  the  last  day's  defeat,  proposes  to  the  Greeks  to 
quit  tlie  siege,  and  return  to  their  country.  Diomed  opjwses  this, 
and  Nestor  seconds  him,  praising  his  wisdom  and  resolution.  He 
orders  the  guard  to  Ικί  sti-engthened,  and  a  council  summoned  to 
deliberate  what  measures  were  to  be  followed  in  this  emergency. 
Agamemnon  pursues  this  advice,  and  Ne&tor  farther  prevails  upon 


ί 


Λ 


him  to  send  ambassadors  to  Achilles,  in  order  to  move  him  to  a  recon- 
ciliation. Ulysses  and  Ajax  are  made  choice  of,  who  are  accom- 
panied by  old  Phoenix.  They  make,  each  of  them,  very  moving  and 
pre.>?sing  speeches,  but  are  rejected  with  roughness  by  Achilles,  who 
notwithstanding  retains  Phoenix  in  his  tent.  The  ambassadors  re- 
turn unsuccessfully  to  the  camp,  and  the  troops  betake  themselves  to 

sleep.  . 

This  book,  and  the  next  following,  take  up  the  si)ace  of  one  night,  \ 
which  is  the  twenty-seventh  from  the  beginning  of  the  f>oem.  The  / 
scene  lies  on  the  sea-shore,  the  statiiJii  of  the  Grecian  ships.  y 

BOOK  X. 

THE  NIGHT   ADVENTURE  OF   DIOMED   AND   ULYSfiES. 

Uiwn  the  refusal  of  Achilles  to  return  to  the  army,  the  distress  of 
Agamemnon  is  described  in  the  most  lively  manner.     He  takes  no 
rest  that  night,  but  pas.^^es  through  the  caujp,  awaking  the  leaders, 
and  contriving  all  possible  methods  for  the  public  safety.    Menelaiis, 
Nestor,  Ulysses,  and   Diomed   are  employed  in  raising  the  rest  of 
the  captains.     They  call  a  council  of  wai•,  and  determine  to  send 
scouts  into  the  enemy's  camp,  to  learn  their  posture,  and  discover  their 
intentions.     Diomed  undertakes  this  hazardous  enterprise,  and  makes 
choice  of  Ulysses  for  his  companion.     In  their  passage  they  surprise     j 
Dolon,  whom  Hector  had  sent  on  a  like  design  to  the  camp  of  the     ; 
Grecians.     From   him   they  are  informed  of  the  situation  of  the    * 
Trojan  and  auxiliary  forces,  and  particularly  of   Rhesus  and  the 
Thracians  who  were  lately  arrived.     They  pass  on  with  success,  kill 
Rhesus  with  several  of  his  olTicers,  and  seize  the  famous  horses  of 
that  prince,  with  which  they  return  in  triumph  to  the  camp. 

The  same  night  continues;  the  scene  lies  in  the  two  camps. 


BOOK   XI. 

THE  THIRD  BATTLE   AND  THE   ACTS  OF    AGAMEMNON. 

Agamemnon,  having  armed  himself,  leads  the  Grecians  to  battle; 
Hector  prepares  the  Trojans  to  receive  them;  while  Jupiter,  Juno, 
and  Minerva  give  the  signals  of  war.  Agamemnon  bears  all  before 
him;  and  Hector  is  commanded  by  Jupiter  (who  sends  Iris  for  that 
purpose)  to  decline  the  engagement,  till  the  king  should  be  wounded 
and  retire  from  the  field.  He  then  makes  a  great  slaughter  of  the 
enemy;  Ulysses  and  Diomed  put  a  stop  to  him  for  a  time;  but  the 


\ 


• 


tio 


ΤΒΜ  JldJAi  Jj 


latter,  Wing  wounded  by  Paris,  is  obliged  to  desert  his  companion, 
who  is  encompassed  by  the  Trojans,  wounded,  and  in  the  utmost  dan- 
ger, till  Menelaiis  and  Ajax  rescue  him.  Hector  comes  against  Ajax. 
but  that  hero  alone  opposes  multitudes  and  rallies  the  Greeks.  Tn  the 
meantime  Machaon,  in  the  other  wing  of  the  army,  is  pierced  with 
an  arrow  by  Paris,  and  carried  from  the  fight  in  Nestor's  chariot. 
Achilles  (who  overlooked  the  action  from  his  ship)  sends  Patroclus  to 
inquire  which  of  the  Greeks  was  wounded  in  that  manner.  Nestor 
entertains  him  in  his  tent  with  an  account  of  the  accidents  of  the 
day,  and  a  long  recital  of  some  former  wars  which  he  had  remem- 
bered, tending  to  put  Patrwdus  uiK>n  j^ersuading  Achilles  to  fight  for 
his  countrymen,  or  at  least  to  pi^rmit  him  to  do  it  clad  in  Achilles' 
armour.  Patroclus  in  Ids  return  meets  Eurypylus,  also  wounded,  and 
assists  him  in  that  di^stress. 

This  book  opens  with  the  eight-and-twentieth  day  of  the  poem ;  and 
the  same  day,  with  its  various  actions  and  adventures,  is  extended 
through  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  fifteeoth,  sixteenth, 
seventeenth,  and  part  of  the  eighteenth  books.  The  scene  lies  in  the 
field  near  the  monument  of  llus. 

BOOK   XII. 

THE  BATTLE  AT  THE  GRECIAN  WALL. 

The  Greeks  lieing  retired  into  their  intrenchments.  Hector  attempts 
to  force  them;  but  it  proving  impossible  to  pass  the  ditch,  Polyda- 
mas  advises  to  quit  their  chariots  and  manage  the  attack  on  foot. 
The  Trojans  follow  his  counsel,  and  having  divided  their  army  into 
five  bodies  of  foot,  begin  the  assault.  But  upon  the  signal  of  an 
eagle  with  a  serpent  in  his  talons,  which  apix'ared  on  the  left  hand  of 
the  Trojans,  Polydamas  endeavoui-s  to  withdraw  them  again.  This 
Hector  opposes,  and  continues  the  attack  ;  in  which,  after  many 
actions,  Sarpedon  makes  the  first  breach  in  the  wall:  Hector  also, 
casting  a  stone  of  a  vast  size,  forces  open  one  of  the  gates,  and  enters 
at  the  head  of  his  troops,  who  victoriously  pursue  the  Grecians  even 
to  their  ships. 

BOOK   XIII. 

TITE    FOURTH    BATT1.B    CONTINUED,    IN    WHICH    NEPTUNE    ASSISTS 
THE    GREEKS  :    THE    ACTS    OF    IDOMENEUS. 

Neptune,  concerned  for  the  loss  of  the  Grecians,  upon  seeing  the 
fortification  forced  by  Hector  (who  had  entered  the  gate  near  the 
station  of  the  Ajaxos),  assumes  the  shape  of  Chalcas,  and  inspii-es 


BOOK  XI  V 


07 


those  heroes  to  oppose  him  :  then,  in  the  form  of  one  of  the  generals, 
encourages  the  other  Greeks,  who  had  retired  to  their  vessels.  The 
Ajaxes  form  their  troops  into  a  close  phalanx,  and  put  a  stop  to 
Hector  and  the  Trojans.  Several  deeds  of  valour  are  [icrfornud  ; 
Meriones,  losing  his  spear  in  the  encounter,  repairs  to  seek  another 
at  the  tent  of  Idomeneus  :  this  occasions  a  conversation  between 
these  two  warriors,  who  return  together  to  the  battle.  Idomeneus 
signalizes  his  courage  above  the  rest  ;  he  kills  Othryoneus,  Asius, 
and  Alcathous:  Deiphobus  and  iEneas  march  agiuii3t  him,  and  at 
length  Idomeneus  retires.  Menelaiis  wounds  Hcienus,  and  kills 
Pisander.  The  Trojans  are  repulsed  in  the  left  wing.  Hector  still 
keeps  his  ground  against  the  Ajaxes,  till,  being  galled  by  the 
Locrian  slingers  and  archers,  Polydamas  advises  to  call  a  council  of 
war:  Hector  approves  his  advice,  but  goes  first  to  rally  the  Trojans; 
upbraids  Paris,  rejoins  Polydamas,  meets  Ajax  again,  and  renews 
the  attack. 

The  eight-and-twentieth  day  still  continues.     The  scene  is  between 
the  Grecian  wall  and  the  sea-shore. 


BOOK   XIV. 


.TUNO   DECEIVES  JUPITER   BY   THE  GIRDLE   OP   VENUS. 

Nestor,  sitting  at  the  table  with  Machaon,  is  alarmed  with  the 
increasing  clamour  of  the  war,  and  hastens  to  Agamemnon  :  on  his 
way  he  meets  that  prince  with  Diomcd  and  Ulysses,  whom  he 
informs  of  the  extremity  of  the  danger.  Agamemnon  proposes  to 
make  their  escape  by  night,  which  Ulysses  withstands;  to  Λvhich 
Diomed  adds  his  advice,  tliat,  wounded  as  they  were,  they  should  go 
forth  and  encourage  the  army  with  their  presence  ;  which  advice  is 
pursued.  Juno,  seeing  the  partiality  of  Jupiter  to  the  Trojans, 
forms  a  design  to  overreach  him  ;  she  sets  off  her  charms  with  tlie 
utmost  care,  and  (the  more  surely  to  enchant  him)  obtains  the 
magic  girdle  of  Venus.  She  then  applies  herself  to  the  goil  of  Sleep, 
and  with  some  dilficulty  persuades  him  to  seal  the  eyes  of  Jupiter  ; 
this  done,  she  goes  to  Mount  Ida,  where  the  god,  at  first  sight,  is 
ravished  with  her  beauty,  sinks  in  her  embraces,  and  is  laid  asleep. 
Neptune  takes  advantage  of  liis  slumber,  and  succours  the  Greeks  ; 
Hector  is  struck  to  the  ground  Avith  a  prodigious  stone  by  Ajax,  and 
carried  off  from  the  battle  :  several  actions  succeed  ;  till  the 
Trojans,  much  distressed,  are  obliged  to  give  way ;  the  lesser  Ajax 
signalizes  himself  in  a  particular  manner. 


68 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK    XV. 


ΤΠΚ  FIFTH  uATTUi:,  λτ  TiiK  ships;   and  tiir  acts  of  a.iax. 

Jupiter,  awaking,  sees  the  Trojanf?  rcpnlscd  from  the  trenches. 
Hector  in'  a  swoon,  and  Nei>tnne  at  tlie  licad  of  tlie  Greeks  ;  he  is 
highly  incensed  at  the  artifice  of  Juno,  who  api>eases  him  by  her 
submissions;  she  is  then  sent  to  Iris  and  Ai)ollo.  Juno,  repairing 
to  the  assembly  of  the  gods,  attempts  with  extraordinary  address  to 
incense  them  against  Jupiter  ;  in  particuhir  she  touches  JVtars  with  a 
violent  resentment  ;  he  is  ready  to  take  arms  but  is  prevented  by 
Minerva.  Iris  and  Ai)ollo  olx'y  the  orders  of  Jupiter  ;  Iris  com- 
mands Neptune  to  leave  the  Ijattle,  to  which,  after  much  reluctauce 
and  passion,  he  consents,  Αίκ»11ο  reinspires  Hector  with  vigour, 
brings  liim  back  to  the  battle,  marches  before  him  with  his  jegis,  and 
turns  the  fortune  of  the  fight.  He  breaks  down  great  part  of  the 
Grecian  wall  ;  the  Trojans  rush  in,  and  attempt  to  fire  the  first  line 
of  the  fleet,  but  are  yet  repelled  by  the  greater  Ajax  with  a  prodi- 
gious slaughter. 


BOOK   XVT. 

THE  SIXTH   BATTLE  ;    TUB  ACTS   AND   DEATH   OF   PATROCLUS. 

Patrwlus  (ill  pursuance  of  the  request  of  Nestor  in  the  eleventh 
lMM>k)  entreats  Achilles  to  suffer  him  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  ttie 
Greeks  with  Achilles'  troops  and  armcmr.  Ho  agrees  to  it,  Init  at 
the  siime  time  charges  him  to  content  himself  with  rescuing  the 
fleet,  without  farther  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  The  armour,  horses, 
soldiers,  and  officers  of  Achilles  are  descril>ed.  Achilles  otTors  a  liba- 
tion for  the  success  of  his  friend,  after  which  Pat  rod  us  leads  the 
Myrmidons  to  battle.  The  Trojans,  at  the  sight  of.  Patroclus  in 
Achilles'  armour,  taking  him  for  that  hero,  are  cast  into  the  utmost 
consternation  :  he  beats  them  off  from  the  vessels.  Hector  iiimself 
flies,  Sarpedon  is  killed,  though  Jupiter  was  averse  to  his  fate. 
Several  other  particulars  of  the  battle  are  described,  in  the  lieat  of 
which  Patroclus,  neglecting  the  orders  of  Achilles,  pursues  the  foe 
to  the  walls  of  Troy,  where  Apollo  repulses  and  disarms  him. 
Euphorbus  wounds  him,  and  Hector  kills  him  :  which  concludes 
the  book. 


BOOK  XV I Π 


CD 


BOOK   XVII. 

THE  SEVENTH  BATTLE,  FOR  THE  BODY  OP  PATROCLUS  ;  THE  ACTS 

OF  Μ  EN  EL  A  its. 

MenelaQs,  upon  the  death  of  Patroclus,  defends  liis  Ixnly  from  the 
enemy  :  Euphorbus,  who  attempts  it,  is  slain.     Hector  advancing, 
Menelaiis  retires  ;  but  siK)n  returns  with  Ajax,  and  drives  him  off.    . 
This  Glaucus  objects  to  Hector  as  a  flight,  who  thereupon  puts  on    \ 
the  armour  he  had  won  from  Patroclus,  and  renews  the  battle.    The     / 
Greeks  give  way,  till  Ajax  rallies  them:  ^]neas  sustains  the  Trojans. 
u*]neas  and  Hector  attempt  the  chariot  of  Achilles,  which  is  borne    \ 
off  by   Automedon.     The   horses  of  Achilles   deplore   the  loss  of   / 
Patroclus  :  Jupiter  covei-s  his  body  with  a  thick  darkness  :  the  noble 
prayer  of  Ajax  on  that  occasion.     Menelaus  sends  Antilochus  to 
Achilles,  with  the  news  of  Patroclus'  death,  then  returns  to  the 
fight,    where,    though    attacked    with    the    utmost    fury,    he    and 
Meriones,  assisted  by  the  Ajaxes,  bear  off  the  body  to  the  ships. 

The  time  is  the  evening  of  the  eight-and-twentieth  day.      The 
scene  lies  in  the  fields  before  Troy, 


BOOK   XVIII. 

THE  GRIEF   OF   ACHILLES,    AND   NEW   ARMOUR  MADE  HIM  BY 

VULCAN. 

The  news  of  the  death  of  Patroclus  is  brought  to  Achilles  by  An- 
tilochus. Thetis,  hearing  his  lamentations,  comes  with  all  lier  sea- 
nymphs  to  comfort  him.  The  speeches  of  the  mother  and  son  on 
this  occasion.  Iris  appears  to  Achilles  by  the  command  of  Juno, 
and  orders  him  to  show  himself  at  the  head  of  the  intrenchments. 
The  sight  of  him  turns  the  fortune  of  the  day,  and  the  body  of 
Patroclus  is  carried  off  by  the  Greeks.  The  Trojans  call  a  council, 
where  Hector  and  Polydamas  disagree  in  their  opinions;  but  the  ad- 
vice of  the  former  prevails,  to  remain  encamped  in  the  field.  The 
grief  of  Achilles  over  the  body  of  Patroclus. 

Thetis  goes  to  the  [)alace  of  Vulcan,  to  obtain  new  arms  for  her 
s.^i.  The  description  of  the  wonderful  works  of  Vulcan;  and,  lastly, 
that  noble  one  of  the  shield  of  Achillco. 

The  latter  part  of  the  nine-and-twentieth  day,  and  the  night 
ensuing,  take  up  this  book.  The  scene  is  at  Achilles'  tent  on  the 
sea-shore,  from  whence  it  changes  to  the  palace  of  Vulcan. 


\ 


70  THE  ILIAD 


BOOK   XIX, 

THE  RlBCOHCmAflOlf'  OV  AC8IUJS  AND  AGAMEMNON. 

Thetis  brings  to  her  son  the  armour  made  by  Vulcan.  She  pre- 
serves the  body  of  his  friend  from  corruption,  aTid  commands  liini 
to  assemble  the  army,  to  declare  his  resentment  at  an  end.  Aga- 
memnon and  Achilles  are  solemnly  reconciled:  the  speeches,  pres- 
ents, and  ceremonies  on  that  occasion.  Achilles  is  with  great  diffi- 
culty persuaded  to  refrain  from  the  battle  till  the  troops  have 
refreshed  themselves,  by  the  advice  of  Ulysses.  The  presents  are 
conveyed  to  the  tent  of  Achilles,  where  BriseTs  laments  over  the 
V»ody  of  Patroclus.  The  hero  obstinately  refuses  all  repast,  and 
gives  himself  up  to  lamentations  for  his  friend.  Minerva  descenils 
to  strengthen  liim,  by  the  order  of  Jupiter.  He  arms  for  the 
fight;  his  api)earance  described.  lie  addresses  himself  to  his  horses, 
and  reproaches  them  with  the  death  of  Patroclus.  One  of  them  is 
miraculously  endued  with  voice,  and  inspired  to  prophesy  his  fate ;  but 
the  hero,  not  astonished  by  that  prodigy,  rushes  with  fury  to  the 
combat. 

The  thirtieth  day.     The  scene  is  ou  the  sea-shore. 


BOOK    XX. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  ΤΠΕ  GODS   AND  THE   ACTS   OP   ACHILLES. 

Jupiter,  upon  Achilles'  return  to  the  battle,  calls  a  council  of  the 
goils,  and  permits  them  to  assist  either  party.  The  terrors  of  the 
combat  described  when  the  deities  are  engaged.  Apollo  encourages 
^neas  to  meet  Achilles,  After  a  long  conversation,  these  two 
heroes  encounter;  but  iEneas  is  preserved  by  the  assistance  of  Nep- 
tune. Achilles  falls  upon  the  rest  of  the  Trojans,  and  is  ujjon  the 
point  of  killing  Hector,  but  Apollo  conveys  him  away  in  a  cloud. 
Achilles  pursues  the  Trojans  with  a  great  slaughter. 

The  same  day  continues.    The  scene  is  in  the  field  before  Troy. 


BOOK  XXI. 

THE   B.\TTLE   IN    THE   KIVEll   SCAMANDKK. 

The  Trojans  fly  before  Achilles,  some  toward  the  town,  others  to 
the  river  Scamander;  he  falls  upon  the  latter  with  great  slaughter, 


BOOK  XXII 


71 


takes  twelve  captives  alive,  to  sacrifice  to  the  shade  of  Patroclus; 
and  kills  Lycaon  and  Asteropseus.  Scamander  attacks  him  with  all 
his  waves;  Neptune  and  Pallas  assist  the  hero;  Simois  joins  Scaman- 
der; at  length  Vulcan,  by  the  instigation  of  Juno,  almost  dries  up 
the  river.  This  combat  ended,  the  other  gods  engage  each  other. 
Meanwhile  Achilles  continues  the  slaughter,  and  drives  the  rest  into 
Troy:  Agenor  only  makes  a  stand,  and  is  conveyed  away  in  a  cloud 
by  Apollo,  who  (to  delude  Achilles)  takes  upon  him  Agenor's  shape, 
and  while  he  pursues  him  in  that  disguise,  gives  the  Trojans  an  op- 
portunity of  retiring  into  their  city. 
The  same  day  continues.     The  scene  is  on  the  banks  and  in  the 

stream  of  Scamander. 


BOOK  XXII.* 

THE   DEATH   OF   HECTOR. 

The  Trojans  being  safe  within  the  walls.  Hector  only  stays  to  op- 
pose Achilles.  Priam  is  struck  at  his  approach,  and  tries  to  per- 
suade his  son  to  re-enter  the  town.  Hecuba  joins  her  entreaties,  but 
in  vain.  Hector  consults  within  himself  what  measures  to  take ;  but, 
at  the  advance  of  Achilles,  his  resolution  fails  him,  and  he  flies: 
Achilles  pursues  him  thrice  round  the  walls  of  Troy.  The  gods 
debate  concerning  the  fate  of  Hector;  at  length  Minerva  descends 
to  the  aid  of  Achilles.  She  deludes  Hector  in  the  shape  of  Deipho- 
bus;  he  stands  the  combat,  and  is  slain.  Achilles  drags  the  dead 
body  at  his  chariot,  in  the  sight  of  Priam  and  Hecuba.  Their  lamen- 
tations, tears,  and  despair.  Their  cries  reach  the  ears  of  Androm- 
ache, who,  ignorant  of  this,  was  retired  into  the  inner  part  of 
the  palace;  she  mounts  up  to  the  walls,  and  beholds  her  dead  hus- 

*  '*  In  the  swift  action  of  this  twenty-second  book,'*  says  Professor 
Jebb,  "  we  can  recognize  at  least  four  general  traits  as  preeminently 
Homeric.  (1)  The  outlines  of  character  are  made  distinct  in  deed,  in 
dialogue,  and  in  audible  thought.  (2)  The  divine  and  human  agen- 
cies are  interfused  ;  the  scene  passes  rapidly  from  earth  to  Olympus, 
and  again  to  earth  ;  the  gods  speak  the  same  language  as  men,— 
noble,Vpt  simple  and  direct  ;  the  gods  are  superhuman  in  might,— 
human  in  love,  in  hate,  and  in  guile.  (3)  Each  crisis  of  the  narra- 
tive is  marked  by  a  powerful  simile  from  nature.  (4)  The  fiercest 
scenes  of  war  are  brought  into  relief  against  profoundly  touching 
pictures  of  domestic  love  and  sorrow." 


{ 


72 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  XXII 


73 


band.      She    swoons  at  the  spectacle.     Her  excess  of    grief  and 
lamentation. 

The  thirtieth  day  still  continues.     The  scene  lies  under  the  walls, 
and  on  the  battlements  of  Troy. 

Thus  to  their  biihvarks,  smit  with  panic  fear. 
The  herded  Ilians  rush  like  driven  deer; 
There,  safe,  they  wipe  the  briny  drops  away. 
And  drown  in  bowls  the  labours  of  the  day. 
Close  to  the  walls,  advancing  o'er  the  fields 
Beneath  one  roof  of  well-compacted  shields, 
March,  bending  on,  the  Greeks'  embodied  powVs, 
Far-stretchinof  in  the  shade  of  Trojan  tow'rs. 
Great  Hector  singly  stayed  ;  chain'd  down  by  fate. 
There  fix\l  he  stood  before  the  Sca?an  gate,  10 

Still  his  bold  arms  determined  to  emjiloy, 
The  guardian  still  of  long-defended  Troy. 

Apollo  now  to  tir'd  Achilles  turns 
(The  power  confessed  in  all  liis  glory  burns), 
"And  what''  (he  cries)  "has  Peleus'  son  in  view, 
With  mortal  speed  a  godhead  to  pursue  ? 
For  not  to  thee  to  know  the  gods  is  giv'n, 
Unskiird  to  trace  the  latent  marks  of  heav'n. 
What  boots  thee  now  that  Troy  forsook  the  plain  ? 
Vain  thy  past  labour  and  thy  present  vain  :  20 

Safe  in  their  Avails  are  now  her  troops  bestow'd. 
While  here  thy  frantic  rage  attacks  a  god." 

1.  See  the  Argument  of  Book  xxi.     What  part  of  the  verb  is  smit  ? 

3.   What  is  meant  by  hriny  drops  f 

6.  Homer  says  *•  setting  shields  to  shoulders."  Probably  the  mean- 
ing is  that  the  Greeks  held  their  shields  over  their  heads  as  a  pro- 
tection against  missiles  thrown  from  the  walls. 

5-8.  What  is  the  subject  of  this  sentence  ? 

9.  By  fate;  that  is,  not  by  his  own  will  or  fault. 

13.  See  the  Argument  of  Book  xxi. 

14.  Confessed,  disclosed,  revealed. 
20.  Pi-esent.  Supply  the  ellipsis. 

22.  Mark  the  imperfect  rhyme.     Find  other  examples  in  this  book. 


The  chief  incens'd  :  '*  Too  partial  god  of  day  ! 
To  check  my  conquests  in  the  middle  way  : 
How  few  in  Ilion  else  had  refuge  found  ! 
What  gasping  numbers  now  had  bit  the  ground  ! 
Thou  robb'st  me  of  a  glory  justly  mine, 
Pow'rful  of  godhead  and  of  fraud  divine  : 
Mean  fame,  alas  !  for  one  of  heav'nly  strain. 
To  cheat  a  mortal  who  repines  in  vain."  30 

Then  to  the  city,  terrible  and  strong. 
With  high  and  haughty  steps  he  tower'd  aloug  : 
So  the  proud  courser,  victor  of  the  prize. 
To  the  near  goal  with  double  ardour  flies. 
Him,  as  he  blazing  shot  across  the  field. 
The  careful  eyes  of  Priam  first  beheld. 
Not  half  so  dreadful  rises  to  the  sight, 
Through  the  thick  gloom  of  some  tempestuous  night, 
Orion's  dog  (the  year  when  autumn  weighs). 
And  o'er  the  feebler  stars  exerts  his  rays  ;  40 

Terrific  glory  !  for  his  burning  breath 
Taints  the  red  air  with  fevers,  plagues,  and  death. 
So  flam'd  his  fiery  mail.     Then  wept  the  sage  ; 
He  strikes  his  rev'rend  head,  now  wliite  Avith  age  ; 
He  lifts  his  wither'd  arms  ;  obtests  the  skies  ; 
He  calls  liis  much-lov'd  son  Avith  feeble  cries. 
The  sou,  resolv'd  Achilles'  force  to  dare. 
Full  at  the  Scaean  gates  expects  the  Avar, 

28.  Homer  is  much  more  simple  :  *'  because  thou  hadst  no  ven- 
geance to  fear  thereafter." 

39.  Orion's  dog,  Sirius,  the  brightest  star  in  the  constellation  of 
the  Dog,  so  called  because  it  precedes  in  the  sky  the  constellation 
Orion,  named  after  a  mighty  hunter.  Its  fabled  evil  influence  on 
the  earth,  referred  to  in  the  next  three  lines,  gave  to  summer  the 
name  of  "dog  days.'*  Weighs,  presses  to  its  close.  Autumn  is  the 
grammatical  subject. 

42.  Who  is  the  sage  f 

45.  Obtests,  calls  upon  earnestly,  entreats. 

48.  What  is  meant  by  tvar? 


74 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  XX Π 


7^ 


While  tlie  sad  father  on  the  rampart  stands, 

And  thus  adjures  him  with  extended  hands  :  50 

*'  Ah  stay  not,  stay  not  !  guardless  and  alone  ; 
Hector,  my  lovM,  my  dearest,  bravest  son  ! 
Methinks  already  I  behold  thee  slain, 
And  stretch'd  beneath  that  fury  of  the  plain. 
Implacable  Achilles  !  might'st  thou  be 
To  all  tlie  gods  no  dearer  than  to  me  ! 
Thee  vultures  wild  should  scatter  round  the  shore. 
And  bloody  dogs  grow  fiercer  from  thy  gore  ! 
How  many  valiant  sons  I  late  enjoyM, 
\^aliant  in  vain  !  by  thy  curs'd  arm  destroy'd  :  60 

Or,  worse  than  slaughter'd,  sold  in  distant  isles 
To  shameful  bondage  and  unworthy  toils. 
Two,  while  I  speak,  my  eyes  in  vain  explore. 
Two  from  one  mother  sprung,  my  Polydore 
And  loved  Lycaon  ;  now  perhaps  no  more  ! 
Oh  !  if  in  yonder  hostile  camp  they  live. 
What  heaps  of  gold,  what  treasures  would  I  give 
(Their  grandsire's  wealth,  by  right  of  birth  their  own. 
Consigned  his  daughter  with  Lelegia's  throne)  ! 
But  if  (which  heav'n  forbid)  already  lost,  70 

All  pale  they  wander  on  the  Stygian  coast. 
What  sorrows  then  must  their  sad  mother  know. 
What  anguish  I  !  unutterable  woe  ! 

53.  Methinks,  it  seems  to  me,  from  the  A.  S.  thyncan,  M.  Κ 
thinken^  to  seem,  appear. 

03-65.  Homer  says  :  '*sons  whom  Tjaotlio6  bare  me,  a  princess 
among  women.'*  This  passage  is  adduced  as  evidence  of  the  exist- 
ence of  polygamy  among  the  Trojans  ;  but  see  Jebb's  statement  in 
note  on  vi.,  493. 

C9.  His  daughter,  Ijaothotl,  one  of  Priam's  wives. 

69.  Lelegia,  the  land  of  the  Leieges,  a  people  supposed  to  live  oa 
the  coast  of  Asia  Minor  and  the  islands  of  the  ^gean. 

71.  Stygian  coast,  the  bank  of  the  river  Styx,  one  of  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  underworld  inhabited  by  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  See 
Gay  ley,  pp.  78-84  ;  and  Gladstone,  Homer,  pp.  54-56. 


f 


Yet  less  that  anguish,  less  to  her,  to  me. 

Less  to  all  Troy,  if  not  depriv'd  of  thee. 

Yet  shun  Achilles  !  enter  yet  the  wall ; 

And  spare  thyself,  thy  father,  spare  us  all ! 

Siive  thy  dear  life  :  or  if  a  soul  so  brave 

Neglect  that  thought,  thy  dearer  glory  save. 

Pity,  while  yet  I  live,  these  silver  hairs  ;  80 

Wliile  yet  thy  father  feels  the  woes  he  bears. 

Yet  curs'd  with  sense  !  a  wretch,  whom  in  his  rage 

(All  trembling  on  the  verge  of  helpless  age) 

Great  Jove  has  plac'd,  sad  spectacle  of  pain  ! 

The  bitter  dregs  of  fortune's  cup  to  drain  r 

Tc  fill  with  scenes  of  death  his  closing  eyes. 

And  number  all  his  days  by  miseries  ! 

My  heroes  slain,  my  bridal  bed  o'erturn'd. 

My  daughters  ravish'd,  and  my  city  burn'd. 

My  bleeding  infants  dash'd  against  the  floor,—  90 

These  I  have  yet  to  see,  perhaps  yet  more  ! 

Perhaps  ev'n  I,  reserved  by  angry  fate 

The  last  sad  relic  of  my  ruin'd  state 

(Dire  pomp  of  sovereign  wretchedness),  must  fall 

And  stain  the  pavement  of  my  regal  hall, 

AVhere  famish'd  dogs,  late  guardians  of  my  door. 

Shall  lick  their  mangled  master's  spatter'd  gore. 

Yet  for  my  sons  I  thank  ye,  gods  !  'twas  well : 

W^ell  have  they  perish'd,  for  in  fight  they  fell. 

Who  dies  in  youth  in  vigour,  dies  the  best,  100 

Struck  through  with  wounds,  all  honest  on  the  breast. 

But  when  the  fates,  in  fullness  of  their  rage. 

Spurn  the  hoar  head  of  unresisting  age. 

In  dust  the  rev'rend  lineaments  deform. 

And  pour  to  dogs  the  life-blood  scarcely  warm ; 


76.   Yet,  still  ;  while  there  is  yet  time. 

84.  Placed,    ordained  ;    appointed.      What    is  the  grammatical 
object  of  placed  ? 

104.  An  instance  of  Pope's  turgid  style,  very  unlike  Homer. 


76 


THM  ILIAD 


This,  this  is  misery  !  the  last,  the  worst,  ^ 
That  man  can  feel,  man,  fated  to  be  curs'd  ! " 

He  said,  and  acting  what  no  words  could  say. 
Rent  from  his  head  tlie  silver  locks  away. 
With  him  the  mournful  mother  bears  a  part ;  !!<> 

Yet  all  their  sorrows  turn  not  Hector's  lieart : 
The  zone  unbraced,  her  bosom  she  displayed  ; 
And  thus,  fast-falling  the  salt  tears,  she  said  : 

'*  Have  mercy  on  me,  0  my  son  !  revere 
Tlie  words  of  age  ;  attend  a  parent's  pray'r  ! 
If  ever  thee  in  these  fond  arms  I  press'd, 
Or  stiird  thy  infant  clamours  at  tliis  breast. 
Ah  !  do  not  thus  our  helpless  years  forego. 
But,  by  our  walls  secur'd,  repel  the  foe. 
Against  his  rage  if  singly  thou  proceed,  120 

Shouldst    thou    (but    lieav'n    avert    it!)    shouldst    tliou 

bleed, 
Nor  must  thy  corse  lie  honoured  on  the  bier, 
Nor  spouse,  nor  mother,  grace  thee  with  a  tear; 
Far  from  our  pious  rites,  those  dear  remains 
Must  feast  the  vultures  on  the  naked  plains." 

So  they,  \vhile  down  their  cheeks  the  torrents  roll : 
But  fix'd  remains  the  purpose  of  his  soul  ; 
Resolv'd  he  stands,  and  with  a  fiery  glance 
Expects  the  hero's  terrible  advance. 

So,  rollM  up  in  his  den,  the  swelling  snake  130 

Beholds  the  traveller  approach  the  brake, 

102-107.  These  lines  are  a  wQidy  paraphmso  of  the  origiiml.  See 
the  prose  translation,  p.  436. 

110.   The  moumftd  mother,  Hecuba. 

112.  Hecuba  undid  the  brooch  by  which  the  peplos,  or  outer  robe, 
was  fastened  over  the  right  shoulder.    See  lutroduction,  and  vi.,  113. 

126.  So  they.    Supply  the  ellipsis. 

129.  Expects,  awaits. 

130.  RoWd  up  in  his  den.  Coiled  up  in  his  hole.  Is  this  picture 
true  to  nature  ? 


BOOK  XXII 


rr 


When,  fed  with  noxious  herbs,  his  turgid  veins 

Have  gather'd  half  the  poisons  of  the  plains  ; 

He  burns,  he  stiffens  with  collected  ire. 

And  his  red  eye-balls  glare  with  living  fire. 

Beneath  a  turret,  on  his  shield  reclin'd, 

He  stood,  and  question'd  thus  his  mighty  mind  : 

"  AVhere  lies  my  way  ?  to  enter  in  the  wall  ? 
Honour  and  shame  th'  ungen'rous  thought  recall : 
Shall  proud  Polydamas  before  the  gate  140 

Proclaim,  his  counsels  are  obey'd  too  late. 
Which  timely  follow'd  but  the  former  night, 
What  numbers  had  been  sav'd  by  Hector's  flight  ? 
That  Λvise  advice  rejected  with  disdain, 
I  feel  my  folly  in  my  people  slain. 
Methinks  my  suffering  country's  voice  I  hear; 
But  most  her  worthless  sons  insult  my  ear. 
On  my  rash  courage  charge  the  chance  of  Avar, 
And  blame  those  virtues  which  they  cannot  share. 
No  I     Η  I  e'er  return,  return  I  must  150 

Glorious,  my  country's  terror  laid  in  dust : 
Or  if  I  perish,  let  her  see  my  fall 
In  field  at  least,  and  fighting  for  her  wall. 
And  yet  suppose  these  measures  I  forego, 
Approach  unarm'd,  and  parley  with  the  foe. 
The  warrior-shield,  the  helm,  and  lance  lay  down. 
And  treat  on  terms  of  peace  to  save  the  town  : 
The  wife  withheld,  the  treasure  ill-detain'd 
(Cause  of  the  war  and  grievance  of  the  land), 

132.  An  allusion  to  the  belief,  prevalent  in  ancient  times,  that 
snakes  derived  their  poison  by  feeding  on  poisonous  herbs. 

13(3.  Jieclin'd,  leaning,  resting. 

137.  Literally,  "Then  sore  troubled  he  spake  to  his  great  heart." 
'•  These  audible  thoughts,"  says  Jebb,  "are  usually  in  the  nature  of 
comments  on  the  main  point  of  ihe  situation,  and  are  such  as  might 
Iiave  been  made  by  a  sympathetic  bystander  ;  they  arc  comparable 
to  the  utterances  of  the  Chorus  in  Greek  Tragedy." 

140,  141.  See  Argument  <>f  Rook  xviii. 

158.   The  ivife  withheld.     Who? 


ι«ίίή..1>ίΜ!!ί<Βι!&.•>.•'^.ί<.....;-..ι^.^•.-.^-ί, ..    .-^^  ».. -l•  ■■■.  w..  ■■,-,--..  ^^...,  .    ^    ...  - 


78 


TEE  JLIAD 


IGO 


With  lionourable  justice  to  restore  ; 

And  add  half  Ilion's  yet  remaining  store, 

AVhich  Troy  sliall,  sworn,  produce  ;  that  injur'd  Greece 

May  sliare  our  wealth,  and  leave  our  walls  in  peace. 

But  why  this  thought  ?    Unarmed  if  I  should  go, 

AVhat  hope  of  mercy  from  this  vengeful  foe, 

But  woman-like  to  fall,  and  fall  without  a  blow  ? 

We  greet  not  here  as  man  conversing  man, 

Met  at  an  oak  or  journeying  o'er  a  plain  ; 

No  season  now  for  calm,  famdiar  talk, 

Like  youths  and  maidens  in  an  ev'ning  walk  :  170 

AVar  is  our  business,  but  to  whom  is  giv'n 

To  die  or  triumph,  that  determine  heav'n  !" 

Thus  pond'ring,  like  a  god  the  Greek  drew  nigh  : 
His  dreadful  plumage  nodded  from  on  high; 
The  Pelian  jav'lin,  in  his  better  hand. 
Shot  trembling  rays  that  glitter'd  o'er  the  land  ; 
And  on  his  breast  the  beamy  splendours  shone 
Like  Jove's  own  lightning  or  the  rising  sun. 
As  Hector  sees,  unusual  terrors  rise, 
Struck  by  some  god,  he  fears,  recedes,  and  flies.  180 

He  leaves  the  gates,  he  leaves  the  Avails  behind  ; 
Achilles  follows  like  the  winged  wind. 

167    Conversing.     Generally  followed  by  with. 

138-172  Note  that  in  this  soliloquy  Hector  makes  no  reference  to 
the  appeals  of  his  father  and  his  mother.  What  was  his  reason  for 
remaining  to  encounter  Achilles  ?  What  light  does  this  throw  on 
Hector's  character  ?  • 

173.  Who  was  pondenng  f    What  is  the  grammatical  error  ? 

175    Why  is  the  word  better  used  instead  of  right  f 

180'.  Hector's  sudden  flight  at  the  approach  of  Achilles  is  one  oE 
the  most  extraordinary  incidents  of  the  lUml.  Says  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang  •  -  In  a  saga  or  a  chamon  de  geste.  in  an  Arthurian  romance, 
in  a  Border  ballad,  in  whatever  poem  or  tale  answers  in  our  North- 
ern  literatu.-e,  however  feebly,  to  Homer,  this  flight  round  the 
walls  of  Troy  would  be  an  absolute  impossibility.  Lnder  the  eyes 
of  his  father,  his  mother,  his  countrymen,  ilector  fiies-the  gallant 
Hector,  'a  very  i.erfect,  gentle  knight  '-from  the  onset  of  a  single 
foe"     But     Mr    Lang  adds,  *' Homer's  world.    Homer  s  chivalry. 


BOOK  XXII 


79 


Thus  at  the  panting  dove  the  falcon  flies 

(The  swiftest  racer  of  the  liquid  skies). 

Just  when  he  holds,  or  thinks  he  holds,  his  prey. 

Obliquely  wheeling  through  th'  aerial  way, 

With  open  beak  and  shrilling  cries  he  springs. 

And  aims  his  claws,  and  shoots  upon  his  wings  : 

No  less  fore-right  the  rapid  chase  they  held. 

One  urg'd  by  fury,  one  by  fear  impelFd;  190 

Now  circling  round  the  walls  their  course  maintain. 

Where  the  high  watch-tow'r  overlooks  the  plain ; 

Now  where  the  fig-trees  spread  their  umbrage  broad 

(A  wider  compass),  smoke  along  the  road. 

Next  by  Scamander's  double  source  they  bound, 

Where  two  fam'd  fountains  burst  the  parted  ground  : 

Homer's  ideas  of  knightly  honor,  were  all  unlike  those  of  the  Chris- 
tian and  the  Northern  world." 

Professor  Mahaify,  on  the  other  hand,  regards  this  slur  and  other 
slurs  on  Hector's  courage  as  changes  wrought  by  alien  hands  in  the 
original  poem.  "  Why,"  he  asks,  "is  he  so  important  all  through 
tiie  plot  of  the  poem  ?  Why  is  his  death  by  Achilles  made  an 
achievement  of  the  highest  order  ?  Why  are  the  chiefs  who  at  one 
time  challenge  and  worst  him,  at  another  quaking  with  fear  at  his 
approach  ?  Simply  because  in  the  original  plan  of  the  Iliad  he  ivas 
a  great  warrior,  and  because  these  perpetual  defeats  by  Diomede 
and  Ajax,  this  avoidance  of  Agamemnon,  this  swaggering  and 
'hectoring,'  which  we  now  find  in  him,  were  introduced  by  the 
enlargers  and  interpolators  in  order  to  enhance  the  merits  of  their 
favorites  at  his  expense." 

188.  What  is  the  meaning  of  shoots  upon  his  ivings  ? 

189.  Fore-right,  straight  ahead. 

194.  Synoke,  raise  a  dust  by  their  rapid  motion.  Dryden  uses 
the  word  in  the  same  sense:  "Proud  of  his  steeds,  he  smokes  along 
the  field."     What  is  the  grammatical  subject  of  smoke  ? 

194.  Road.  The  original  shows  that  a  wagon  road,  on  which 
both  kept,  ran  round  the  city  at  a  little  distance  from  the  wall, 

196.  Fountains.  These  are  the  two  springs  to  which  allusion  is 
made  in  the  Introduction,  p.  xxii.  It  is  now  known  that  no  springs 
answering  to  Homer's  description  exist  in  the  plain  of  Scamander. 
The  Scamander,  however,  actually  takes  its  rise  in  two  springs,  one 
hot  and  one  cold,  on  the  western  side  of  Ida.   It  is  supposed  that  the 


80 


THE  ILIAD 


This  hot  through  scorching  clefts  is  seen  to  rise. 

With  exhalations  steaming  to  the  skies  ; 

That  the  green  banks  in  summer's  heat  overflows, 

Like  crystal  clear,  and  cold  as  winter  snows.  200 

Each  gushing  fount  a  marble  cistern  fills, 

Whose  polish 'd  bed  receives  the  falling  rills  ; 

Where  Trojan  dames  (e'er  yet  alarm'd  by  Greece) 

Wash'd  their  fair  garments  in  the  days  of  peace. 

By  these  they  pass'd,  one  chasing,  one  in  flight 

(The  mighty  fled,  pursued  by  stronger  might)  ; 

Swift  was  the  course  ;  no  vulgar  prize  tliey  play, 

No  vulgar  victim  must  reward  the  day    *' '  '  ■ 

(Such  as  in  races  crown  the  speedy  strife)  : 

The  prize  contended  was  great  Hector's  life.  210 

As  when  some  hero's  fun'rals  are  decreed, 
In  grateful  honour  of  the  mighty  dead. 
Where  high  rewards  the  vigorous  youth  inflame 
(Some  golden  tripod  or  some  lovely  dame), 
The  panting  coursers  swiftly  turn  the  goal, 
And  with  them  turns  the  rais'd  spectator's  soul  : 
Thus  three  times  round  the  Trojan  Avail  they  fly  ; 
The  gazing  gods  lean  forward  from  the  sky  : 
To  whom,  while  eager  on  the  chase  they  look. 
The  sire  of  mortals  and  immortals  spoke  :  220 

**  Unworthy  sight !  the  man  belov'd  of  heav'n. 
Behold,  inglorious  round  yon  city  driv'n  I 
My  heart  partakes  the  gen'rous  Hector's  pain  ; 
Hector,  whose  zeal  whole  hecatombs  has  slain. 
Whose  grateful  fumes  the  gods  receiv'd  with  joy. 
From  Ida's  summits  and  the  towers  of  Troy  :  , 

poet  transferred  in  imagination  a  striking  piece  of  scenery  from  the 
mountain  to  the  plain ;  or  else  that  tlie  springs  which  he  describes 
have  disappeared, 

216.  This  line  is  one  of  Pope's  inrentions  to  complete  a  couplet. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  original  to  justify  it.  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  rais'd  f    What  is  its  syntax  ? 

220.   The  mre.    Who  is  meant  ? 


BOOK  XXII 


81 


i^ow  see  him  flying  !  to  his  fears  resign'd. 

And  Fate  and  fierce  Achilles  close  behind. 

Consult,  ye  pow'rs  ('tis  worthy  your  debate) 

AYhether  to  snatch  him  from  impending  fate,  280 

Or  let  him  bear,  by  stern  Pelides  slain 

(Good  as  he  is),  the  lot  impos'd  on  man  ?" 

Then  Pallas  thus  :  ''  Shall  he  whose  vengeance  forms 
The  forky  bolt,  and  blackens  heav'n  with  storms, 
Shall  he  prolong  one  I'rojan's  forfeit  breath  I 
A  man,  a  mortal,  pro-ordain'd  to  death! 
And  will  no  murmurs  fill  the  courts  above  ? 
JVo  gods  indignant  blame  their  partial  Jove  ?" 

''  Go  then"  (return'd  the  sire),  ''  without  delay  ; 
Exert  thy  will :  I  give  the  fates  their  way.""  240 

Swift  at  the  mandate  pleas'd  Tritonia  flies. 
And  stoops  impetuous  from  the  cleaving  skies. 

As  through  the  forest,  o'er  the  vale  and  lawn. 
The  well-breath'd  beagle  drives  the  flying  fawn  : 
In  vain  he  tries  the  covert  of  the  brakes, 
Or  deep  beneath  the  trembling  thicket  shakes  : 
Sure  of  the  vapour  in  the  tainted  dews, 
The  certain  hound  his  various  maze  pursues. 
Thus  step  by  step,  where'er  the  Trojan  wheel'd. 
There  swift  Achilles  compass'd  round  the  field.  250 

Oft  as  to  reach  the  Dardan  gates  he  bends, 
And  hopes  th^  assistance  of  his  pitying  friends 
(Whose  show'ring  arrows,  as  he  coursM  below, 
From  the  high  turrets  might  oppress  the  foe), 

228.  Fate.     Another  interpolation  by  Pope. 

238.  Partial.  This  epithet  is  very  unlike  Homer.  He  simply 
says  :  "  Do  it,  but  not  all  we  other  gods  approve.'' 

241.  Tritonia.  The  Greek  form  of  the  word  is  Tritogeneia, 
Trito-born,  an  epithet  of  Athena  (Minerva  or  Pallas).  The  fii-st  part 
of  the  word  has  been  explained  as  born  near  Lake  Tritonis,  or  head- 
born,  or  born  on  the  third  day  ;  but  its  meaning  is  really  unknown. 

247.    Vapour.     A  wrong  use  of  tiio  word  for  scent. 

247.   Tainted.     How  were  the  dews  tainted  ? 

250.   Compaas'd  round,  followed  in  the  circular  track. 


a..»»  ■ffl.ji•  OM.-.afr,.,Mi,i  aiMr'itffc^j''^'*-  --^-■iJ'-'^-i-^..-*-»  .,>ιγ,αμ«.  ...^a.^BlaaaMiai 


82 


THE  ILIAD 


So  oft  Achilles  turns  him  to  the  phiin  : 

He  eyes  the  city,  but  he  eyes  in  vain. 

As  men  in  slumbers  seem  with  speedy  pace 

One  to  pursue  and  one  to  lead  the  cliase, 

Their  sinking  limbs  the  fancied  course  forsake. 

Nor  this  can  fly,  nor  that  can  overtake  :  260 

No  less  tlie  lab'ring  heroes  pant  and  strain, 

While  that  but  flies,  and  this  pursues,  in  vain. 

What  god,  0  Muse  !  assisted  Hector's  force. 
With  fate  itself  so  long  to  hold  the  course  ? 
Plioibus  it  was  :  who,  in  his  latest  hour, 
Endued  his  knees  with  strength,  his  nerves  with  pow'r. 
And  great  Achilles,  lest  some  Greek's  advance 
Should  snatch  the  glory  from  his  lifted  lance, 
Signed  to  the  troops  to  yield  his  foe  the  way. 
And  leave  untouch'd  the  honours  of  the  day.  270 

Jove  lifts  the  golden  balances,  that  show 
The  fates  of  mortal  men  and  things  below  : 
Here  each  contending  hero's  lot  he  tries, 
And  weighs,  with  equal  hand,  their  destinies. 
Low  sinks  the  scale  surcharg'd  with  Hector's  fate  ; 
Heavy  witii  death  it  sinks,  and  hell  receives  the  weight. 

Then  Phoebus  left  him.     Fierce  Minerva  flies 
To  stern  Pel  ides,  and,  triumphing,  cries  : 
*'  Ο  lov'd  of  Jove  !  this  day  our  labours  cease, 
And  conquest  blazes  with  full  beams  on  Greece.  280 

Great  Hector  falls  ;  that  Hector,  fam'd  so  far. 
Drunk  with  renown,  insatiable  of  war. 
Falls  by  thy  hand  and  mine  !  nor  force  nor  flight 
Shall  more  avail  him  nor  his  grxl  of  light. 
See,  where  in  vain  he  supplicates  above, 
Koird  at  the  feet  of  unrelenting  tiove  ! 
Rest  here  :  myself  will  lead  the  Trojan  on. 
And  urge  to  meet  the  fate  he  cannot  shun.'* 

257.  This  is  the  only  simile  iu  Homer  taken  from  a  dream. 
270.  The  meaning  is  tliat  Hector  was  condemned  to  Hades. 
285.   He.     Who? 


BOOK  XXJI 


83 


Her  voice  divine  the  chief  with  joyful  mind 
Obey'd,  and  rested,  on  his  lance  reclin'd,  290 

While  like  Deiphobus  the  martial  dame 
(Her  face,  her  gesture,  and  her  arms  the  same). 
In  sliow  an  aid,  by  hapless  Hector's  side 
Approach'd,  and  greets  him  thus  with  voice  belied  : 

''Too  long,  0  Hector  !  have  I  borne  the  sight 
Of  this  distress,  and  sorrowed  in  thy  flight: 
It  fits  us  now  a  noble  stand  to  make. 
And  here,  as  brothers,  equal  fates  partake." 

Then  he:  'Ό  prince  !  allied  in  blood  and  fame, 
Dearer  than  all  that  own  a  brother's  name;  300 

Of  all  that  Hecuba  to  Priam  bore, 
Long    tried,    long    lov'd  ;    much    lov'd,    but    honour'd 

more  ! 
Since  you  of  all  our  num'rous  race  alone 
Defend  my  life,  regardless  of  your  own." 

Again  the  goddess:   '*  Much  my  father's  pray'r. 
And  much  my  mother's,  press'd  me  to  forbear: 

291.  Minerva  assumes  the  appearance  of  Deiphobus,  Hector's 
favorite  brother,  tlie  son  of  Priam  and  Hecuba. 

293.  Shoiv,  appearance. 

294.  To  a  modern  reader  the  treacherous  aid  of  Athena  to  Achilles, 
and  the  deception  she  practises  on  Hector,  apjjear  absolutely  revolt- 
ing. IMr.  Lang  says:  "It  is  remarkable  tliat  when  the  true  poet 
had  to  pit  against  each  other  a  courteous  and  patriotic  warrior  like 
Hector  and  a  young  hero  who,  like  Achilles,  is  really  fighting  only 
for  his  own  hand  and  his  private  passion,  he  should  have  made  Hec- 
tor check  our  sympathy  by  his  flight,  and  Achilles  even  more 
unsympathetic  by  the  treacherous  aid  of  Athene  than  by  his  own 
relentless  and  savage  revenge."  To  a  Greek  audience,  Mr.  Leaf 
thinks,  "  the  presence  of  the  gods  on  Achilles'  side  was  not  so  much 
a  mere  extraneous  aid  as  a  tangible  sign  that  Achilles  was,  after  all, 
fighting  the  great  fight  of  Hellenism  against  barbarism;  it  is  a 
reminder  that  the  action  on  earth  is  but  a  reflexion  of  the  will  of 
heaven,  and  exalts  rather  than  belittles  those  to  whom  the  help  is 
given."  "  It  is  a  cardinal  rule  with  Homer,"  says  Mr.  Gladstone, 
"  that  no  considerable  Greek  chieftain  is  ever  slain  in  fair  fight  by  a 
Trojan."    Belied,  feigned. 


»ί»ι>,Λι^ίτ.ι&ρ.ίι...  J».M>.««>  ..  -^»..J.»g.i^-J..}-...  '-^  .-.--h^j-tfin.  A-^-i  ii..^jl,.^'.,iji»>.it-.A.Jtajn.«-«lttilfl-.  irtltHilli'llMllMI 


84 


THE  Τ  LI  AD 


BOOK  XXTI 


85 


My  friends  eiiibracM  my  knees,  adjur'd  my  stay. 

But  stronger  love  impelFd,  smd  1  obey. 

Come  then,  the  glorious  conflict  let  us  try, 

Lot  the  steel  sparkle  and  the  jav'lin  fly;  310 

Or  let  us  stretch  Achilles  on  the  field, 

Or  to  liis  arm  our  bloody  trophies  yield." 

Fraudful  she  said;  then  swiftly  march'd  before; 
The  Dardan  hero  shuns  his  foe  no  more. 
Sternly  they  met.     The  silence  Hector  broke; 
His  dreadful  plumage  nodded  as  he  spoke: 

*'Enough,  0  son  of  PeleusI  Troy  hasviewVl 
Her  walls  thrice  circled,  and  her  chief  pursu'd. 
But  now  some  god  within  me  bids  mo  trj 
Thine  or  my  fate:  I  kill  thee  or  I  die.  320 

Yet  on  the  verge  of  battle  let  us  stay, 
And  for  a  moment's  space  suspend  the  day: 
Let  heav'n's  high  powers  be  call'd  to  arbitrate 
The  just  conditions  of  this  stern  debate. 
(Eternal  witnesses  of  all  below. 
And  faithful  guardians  of  the  treasured  vow  I) 
To  them  I  swear:  if,  victor  in  the  strife, 
Jove  by  these  hands  shall  shed  thy  noble  life, 
No  vile  dishonour  shall  thy  corse  pursue; 
Stripp\l  of  its  arms  alone  (the  conqu'ror's  due),  330 

The  rest  to  Greece  nninjur'd  Γίΐ  restore: 
Now  plight  thy  mutual  oath,  I  ask  no  more." 

**  Talk  not  of  oaths"  (the  dreadful  chief  replies. 
While  anger  flash'd  from  his  disdainful  eyes), 
**  Detested  as  thou  art  and  ought  to  be, 
Nor  oath  nor  pact  Achilles  plights  with  thee;' 
Such  pacts  as  lambs  and  rabid  wolves  combine. 
Such  leagues  as  men  and  furious  lions  join, 
To  such  I  call  the  gods!  one  constant  state 
Of  lasting  rancour  and  eternal  hate:  340 

No  thought  but  rage  and  never-ceasing  strife, 
Till  death  extinguish  rage,  and  thought,  and  life. 

314.  Dardaiius  was  the  mythical  ancestor  υί  the  Trojans, 


Rouse  then  thy  forces  this  important  hour. 
Collect  thy  soul,  and  call  forth  all  thy  pow'r. 
No  farther  subterfuge,  no  farther  chance; 
'Tis  Pallas,  Pallas  gives  thee  to  my  lance. 
Each  Grecian  ghost  by  thee  deprived  of  breath, 
Now  hovers  round,  and  calls  thee  to  thy  death." 

He  spoke,  and  launched  his  jav'lin  at  the  foe  ; 
But  Hector  shunn'd  the  meditated  blow  ;  350 

He  stoop'd,  while  o'er  his  head  the  flying  spear 
Sung  innocent,  aiul  spent  its  force  in  air. 
JVlinerva  watch'd  it  falling  on  the  land, 
Then  drew,  and  gave  to  great  Achilles'  hand. 
Unseen  of  Hector,  who,  elate  Avith  joy. 
Now  shakes  his  lance,  and  braves  the  dread  of  Troy. 

**  The  life  you  boasted  to  that  jav'lin  giv'n, 
Prince!  you  have  miss'd.     My  fate  depends  on  heav'n. 
To  thee  (presumptuous  as  thou  art)  unknown 
Or  what  must  prove  my  fortune  or  thy  own.  360 

348.  In  Book  xviii.,  Thetis,  Achilles'  mother,  had  told  him  that 
straightway  after  Hector's  death  was  death  appointed  unto  him.  In 
Book  xix.,  his  horse  Xanthus,  gifted  for  the  moment  witli  human 
speech  and  the  power  of  prophecy,  had  foretold  that  his  master's  death- 
day  was  nigh  at  hand.  Mr.  John  Addington  Symonds  thinks  that  the 
knowledge  of  his  own  aporoaching  end  is  the  key  to  the  terrible 
ferocity  displayed  by  the  Greek  chieftain.  "Stung  as  he  is,"  says 
Mr.  Symonds,  "by  remorse  and  by  the  sorrow  for  Patroclus,  which 
does  not  unnerve  him,  but  rather  kindles  his  whole  spirit  to  a  flame, 
we  are  prepared  to  see  him  fierce  even  to  cruelty.  But  when  wc 
know  that  in  the  midst  of  the  carnage  ho  is  himself  moving  r.  dying 
man,  when  we  remember  that  he  is  sending  his  slain  foes  like  mes- 
sengers before  his  face  to  Hades,  when  we  keep  tlie  warning  words 
of  Thetis  and  Xanthus  in  our  luimls,  then  the  grim  frenzy  of 
Achilles  becomes  dignified.  The  world  is  in  a  manner  over  for 
him,  and  he  appears  the  incarnation  of  disdainful  anger  and  re- 
vengeful love,  the  conscious  scourge  of  God  and  instrument  of 
destiny." 

352.  Sung,  gave  out  a  wliistling  sound  as  it  passed  thrqugh  the 
air. 

360.   Or.     What  would  be  the  prose  form  ? 


if 


Ιί 


80 


'νΤΤψ*     ΎΤ  Τ  ΑΤ\ 


)  i  \} 


Boasting  is  but  an  art,  our  fears  to  blind, 

And  with  false  terrors  sink  another's  mind. 

But  know,  whatever  fate  I  am  to  try, 

By  no  dishonest  wound  shall  Hector  die; 

I  shall  not  fall  a  fugitive  at  least. 

My  soul  shall  bravely  issue  from  my  breast. 

But  first,  try  thou  my  arm;  and  may  this  dart 

End  all  my  country's  woes,  deep  buried  in  thy  heart  I 

Tlie  weapon  flew,  its  course  unerring  held; 
Unerring,  but  the  heavenly  shield  repelFd 
The  mortal  dart;  resulting  with  a  bound 
From  of!  the  ringing  orb,  it  struck  the  ground. 
Hector  beheld  liis  jav'Iin  fall  in  vain, 
Nor  other  lance  nor  other  hope  remain; 
He  calls  Dc'ipUobus,  demands  a  spear. 
In  vain,  for  no  De'iphobus  was  there. 
All  comfortless  he  stands:  then  Avith  a  sigh  : 
'^'Tis  so — heaven  wills  it,  and  my  hour  is  nigh! 
I  deem'd  Dei'phobus  had  lieard  my  call. 
But  he  secure  lies  guarded  in  the  wall. 
A  god  deceived  me;  Pallas,  ^twas  thy  deed. 
Death  and  black  fate  approach!     'Tis  I  must  bleed. 
Xo  refuge  now,  no  succour  from  above, 
Great  Jove  deserts  mc  and  the  son  of  Jove, 
Propitious  once  and  kind  I     Then  welcome  fate  ! 
Tis  true  I  perish,  yet  I  perish  great: 
Yet  in  a  mighty  deed  I  shall  expire. 
Let  future  ages  hear  it,  and  admire  !  " 

303,  What  is  the  grammatical  object  of  know  ? 

371.  Resulting,  leaping  back. 

384.  Who  is  the  son  of  Jove  9 

388.  Mr.  Gladstone's  summing  up  of  Hector's  character  is  as  fol- 
lows :  'His  courage  is  far  from  perfect,  and  there  are  in  him  veins 
both  of  vainglory  and  of  rashness.  But  lie  is  pious  towards  the 
gods,  aiTeetionate  ami  beloved  in  his  domestic  relations,  a  laborious 
and  unselfish  patriot,  laden  perhaps  with  more  responsibility  than 
he  well  can  bear.  At  the  latest  moment,  driven  to  bay,  he  recovers 
a  perfect  manhood,  and  dies  the  hero's  death." 


380 


87 


390 


400 


BOOK  XXII 

Fierce,  at  the  word,  his  weighty  sword  he  drew, 
And,  all  collected,  on  Achilles  flew. 
So  Jove's  bold  bird,  high-balanc'd  in  the  air, 
vStoops  from  the  clouds  to  truss  the  quiv'ring  hare. 
Kor  less  Achilles  his  fierce  soul  prepares  ; 
Before  his  breast  the  flaming  shield  he  bears. 
Refulgent  orb  !     Above  his  fourfold  cone 
The  gilded  horsehair  sparkled  in  the  sun, 
Nodding  at  ev'ry  step  (Vulcanian  frame  !)  ; 
And  as  he  mov'd,  his  figure  seem'd  on  flame. 
As  radiant  Tlesper  shines  with  keener  light. 
Far-beaming  o'er  the  silver  host  of  night, 
When  all  the  starry  train  emblaze  the  sphere  : 
So  shone  the  point  of  great  Achilles'  spear. 
In  his  right  hand  he  waves  the  weapon  round. 
Eyes  the  whole  man,  and  meditates  the  wound ; 
But  the  rich  mail  Patroclus  lately  wore. 
Securely  cas'd  the  warrior's  body  o'er. 
One  place  at  length  he  spies,  to  let  in  fate, 
Where  'twixt  the  neck  and  throat  the  jointed  plate 
Gave  entrance  :  through  that  penetrable  part 
Furious  he  drove  the  well-directed  dart : 
Nor  pierc'd  the  windpipe  j^et,  nor  took  the  pow'r 
Of  speech,  unhappy  !  from  thy  dying  hour. 
Prone  on  the  field  the  blee<ling  warrior  lies, 
AVhile  thus,  triumphing,  stern  Achilles  cries  : 
''  At  last  is  Hector  stretch'd  upon  the  plain, 
Who  fear'd  no  vengeance  for  Patroclus  slain : 


390.  All  collected,  having  gathei-ed  all  liis  powers  for  a  supreme 
effort. 

391.  Jove's  hold  bird,  the  eagle. 

392.  Truss,  seize  and  carry  off. 

395.  Fourfold  cone,  four-plated  helm. 

397.  Vulcanian  frame,  forged  by  Vulcan  {Hephmstus). 

399.  Ilesper,  the  evening  star. 

4U5.  See  the  Arguments  of  Books  xvi.  and  xvii. 


I 


410 


,  ^ΐ*ί^^. 


Β 


88 


THE  ILIAD 


Then,  prince  !  you  should  liave  feared  what  now  you  feel ; 

Achilles  absent  was  Achilles  still. 

Yet  a  sliort  space  the  groat  avenger  stay'd, 

Then  low  in  dust  thy  strength  and  glory  laid.  420 

Peaceful  lie  sleeps,  with  all  our  rites  adorn'd, 

For  ever  honour'd  ami  for  ever  mourn'd  ; 

While,  cast  to  all  the  rage  of  hostile  pow'r, 

Thee  birds  shall  mangle  and  the  dogs  devour." 

Then  Hector,  fainting  at  th'  approach  of  death  : 
''  By  thy  own  soul!  by  those  Λνΐιο  gave  tliee  breath  ! 
By  all  the  sacred  prevalence  of  pray'r  ; 
Ah,  leave  me  not  for  Grecian  dogs  to  tear ! 
The  common  rites  of  sepulture  bestow. 
To  soothe  a  father's  and  a  mother's  woe  ;  43U 

Let  their  large  gifts  procure  an  urn  at  least. 
And  Hector's  ashes  in  his  country  rest." 

"No,  wretch  accurs'd  \"  relentless  he  replies 
(Flames,  as  he  spoke,  shot  flashing  from  his  eyes), 
''  Not  those  who  gave  me  breath  should  bid  me  spare, 
Nor  all  the  sacred  prevalence  of  pray'r. 
Could  I  myself  the  bloody  banquet  join ! 
No  !  to  the  dogs  that  carcass  I  resign. 
Sliould  Troy  to  bribe  me  bring  forth  all  her  store. 
And,  giving  thousands,  offer  thousands  more  ;  440 

Should  Dardan  Priam  and  his  weeping  dame 
Drain  their  whole  realm  to  buy  one  fun'ral  flame; 
Their  Hector  on  the  pile  they  should  not  see. 
Nor  rob  the  vultures  of  one  limb  of  thee." 

420-4o2.  These  lines  ai-e  very  unlike  the  original  :  "  Give  them 
lioine  my  body  back  again,  that  the  Trojans  and  Trojans'  wives  give 
me  my  due  of  fire  after  my  death."  The  spirits  of  the  departed  eould 
not  enter  the  underworld  until  their  bodies  had  received  tlie  last  rites 
in  tlie  world  above. 

436.  Prevalence,  efileacv. 

437.  Mr.  Leaf  regards  the  following  as  the  meaning  of  this  pas- 
sage :  **  As  surely  as  I  cannot  eat  thee  myself,  so  surely  the  dogs 
shall  eat  thee." 


89 


450 


I « 


460 


BOOK  XXII 

Then  thus  the  chief  his  dying  accents  drew  : 
*'  Thy  rage,  implacable  !  too  well  I  knew  : 
The  Furies  that  relentless  breast  have  steeFd, 
And  curs'd  thee  with  a  heart  that  cannot  yield. 
Yet  think,  a  day  will  come,  when  fate's  decree 
And  angry  gods  shall  wreak  this  wrong  on  thee ; 
Phoebus  and  Paris  shall  avenge  my  fate, 
And  stretch  thee  here,  before  this  Sca3an  gate." 

He  ceas'd.     The  fates  sui)press'd  his  lab'ring  breath. 
And  his  eyes  stiffened  at  the  hand  of  death  ; 
To  the  dark  realm  the  spirit  wings  its  way 
(^The  manly  body  left  a  load  of  clay), 

nd  plaintive  glides  along  the  dreary  coast,i 
A  naked,  wand'ring,  melancholy  ghost ! 

Achilles,  musing  as  he  roll'd  his  eyes 
O'er  the  dead  hero,  thus  (unheard)  replies  : 
'•  Die  thou  the  first !  when  Jove  and  heav'n  ordain, 
I  follow  thee."— He  said,  and  stripp'd  the  slain. 
'J'hen,  forcing  backward  from  the  gaping  wound 
The  reeking  jav'lin,  cast  it  on  the  ground. 
The  thronging  Greeks  behold  with  wond'ring  eyes 
His  manly  beauty  and  superior  size  : 
While  some,  ignobler,  the  great  dead  deface 
AVith  wounds  ungen'rous  or  with  taunts  disgrace: 
'•  Jlow  chang'd  that  Hector  who,  like  Jove,  of  late 
8ent  lightning  on  our  fleets  and  scattered  fate  !" 

High  o'er  the  slain  the  great  Achilles  stands, 
Begirt  with  heroes  and  surrounding  bands  ; 
And  thus  aloud,  while  all  the  host  attends: 
''  Princes  and  leaders  !  countrymen  and  friends! 
Since  now  at  length  the  powerful  will  of  heav'n 
The  dire  destroyer  to  our  arm  has  giv'n, 

452.  Hector's  prophecy  was  fulfilled.  Paris  shot  Achilles  with  a 
poisoned  arrow  guided  by  Apollo. 

4G8.  The  Greeks  thought  that  the  mutilation  of  the  body  deprived 
the  spirit  of  the  power  of  taking  revenge.  F.ach  of  them  doubtless 
thought,  moreover,  that  he  was  avenging  a  kinsman  slain  by  Hector. 


It 


Fl 


rv 


470 


90 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  XXIT 


91 


Is  not  Troy  iuVn  already?    Haste,  ye  powVs  ! 

See  if  already  their  deserted  tow'rs 

Are  left  unmanned;  or  if  they  yet  retain 

The  souls  of  heroes,  their  great  Hector  slain.  480 

But  what  is  Troy,  or  glory  wliat  to  me  ? 

Or  why  reflects  my  mind  on  aught  but  thee. 

Divine  Patrochis  !  Death  has  seal'd  his  eyes  : 

Unwept,  unlionour'd,  uninterr'd  he  lies  I 

Can  his  dear  image  from  my  soul  depart. 

Long  as  the  Vital  spirit  moves  my  heart  ? 

If,  in  the  melancholy  shades  below, 

The  flames  of  friends  and  lovers  cease  to  glow. 

Yet  mine  shall  sacred  last;  mine,  undecay'd, 

Burn  on  through  death  and  animate  my  shade.  490 

Meanwhile,  ye  sons  of  Greece  !  in  triumpli  bring 

The  corpse  of  Hector,  and  your  Panxns  siug. 

Be  this  the  song,  slow  moving  tow'rd  the  shore. 

*  Hector  is  dead  and  Hion  is  no  more/" 

Then  his  fell  soul  a  thought  of  vengeance  bred 
(Unworthy  of  himself  and  of  the  dead): 
The  nervous  ancles  bor'd,  his  feet  he  bound 
With  thongs  inserted  through  the  double  wound  ; 
These  fixM  up  high  behind  the  rolling  wain. 
His  graceful  head  was  trail'd  along  the  })hiin.  500 

Proud  on  his  car  th'  insulting  victor  stood. 
And  bore  aloft  his  arms,  distilling  blood. 
He  smites  the  steeds  ;  the  rapid  chariot  flies; 
The  sudden  clouds  of  circling  dust  arise. 
Now  lost  is  all  that  formidable  air  ; 
The  face  divine  and  long-descending  hair 

493-494.  Po|)e's  Iranslation  is  very  inadequiitc.  Mr  Ijeafs  prose 
rendering  of  the  song  of  victory  is  this  :  "  Great  glory  have  we  won  ; 
we  have  slain  the  noble  iTeetor,  unto  whom  the  Trojans  prayed 
throughout  their  city,  as  he  had  been  a  god." 

497.  NervouH,  sinewy,  strong. 

500.  It  is  said  that  it  was  the  custom  in  Thessaly  to  drag  the  body 
of  a  murderer  around  the  grave  of  his  victim.  If  so,  Achilles  was 
following  one  of  iiis  country's  customs. 


Purple  the  ground,  and  streak  the  sable  sand;      > 

Deform'd,  dishonour'd,  in  his  native  land  ! 

Giv'n  to  the  rage  of  an  insulting  throng  ! 

And,  in  his  parents^  sight,  now  dragg'd  along  !  510 

Tiie  mother  first  beheld  with  sad  survev; 
She  rent  her  tresses,  venerably  grey, 
And  cast  far  off  the  regal  veils  away. 
With  piercing  shrieks  his  bitter  fate  she  moans. 
While  the  sad  father  answers  groans  with  groans  ; 
Tears  after  tears  his  mournful  cheeks  overflow. 
And  the  whole  city  wears  one  face  of  woe  : 
No  less  than  if  the  rage  of  hostile  fires. 
From  her  foundations  curling  to  her  spires. 
O'er  the  proud  citadel  at  length  should  rise,  520 

And  the  last  blaze  send  Hion  to  the  skies. 
The  wretched  monarch  of  the  falling  state. 
Distracted,  presses  to  the  Dardan  gate. 
Scarce  the  whole  people  stop  his  despVate  course. 
While  strong  affliction  gives  the  feeble  force  : 
Grief  tears  his  heart,  and  drives  him  to  and  fro 
In  all  the  raging  impotence  of  woe. 
At  length  he  rolPd  in  dust,  and  thus  begun. 
Imploring  all,  and  naming  one  by  one  : 
''Ah  !  let  me,  let  me  go  where  sorrow  calls  ;  530 

I,  only  I,  will  issue  from  your  walls 
(Guide  or  companion,  friends  !  I  ask  ye  none). 
And  bow  before  the  murd'rer  of  my  son. 
My  grief  perhaps  his  pity  may  engage  ; 
Perhaps  at  least  he  may  respect  my  age. 
He  has  a  father  too  ;  a  man  like  me  ; 
One  not  exempt  from  age  and  misery 
(Vig'rous  no  more,  as  when  his  young  embrace 
Begot  his  pest  of  me  and  all  my  race). 
How  many  valiant  sons,  in  early  bloom,  540 

Has  that  curs'd  hand  seut  headlong  to  the  tomb ! 

525.   Gives  the  feeble  force,  gives  strength  to  one  who  is  feeble. 
538.  What  is  the  grammatical  error  ? 


I 

1 


THE  ILIAD 


Thee,  Hector  I  last :  tliy  loss  (diviiiel}^  brave !) 
►Sinks  my  sad  soul  with  sorrow  to  the  grave. 
Oil  had  thy  gentle  spirit  pass'd  in  peace, 
The  son  expiring  in  the  sire's  embrace. 
While  both  thy  parents  wept  thy  fatal  hour. 
And,  bending  o'er  thee,  mix'd  the  tender  sliowV  I 
Some  comfort  that  had  been,  some  sad  relief. 
To  melt  in  full  satiety  of  grief  !  " 

Thus  wail'd  the  father,  grov'ling  on  the  ground,       Γ».">0 
And  all  the  eyes  of  II ion  streamed  arouiul. 

Amidst  her  matrons  Hecuba  appears 
(A  mourning  princess,  and  a  train  in  tear^): 
**  Ah  !  why  has  heaven  prolong'd  this  hated  breath, 
Patient  of  horrors,  to  behold  thy  death? 
0  Hector  !  late  thy  parents'  pride  and  joy, 
The  boast  of  nations  !  the  defence  of  Troy  ! 
To  whom  lier  safety  and  her  fame  slie  ow'd. 

Her  chief,  lier  hero,  and  almost  her  god  ! 

0  fatal  change  !  become  in  one  sad  day  560 

A  senseless  corpse  !  inani mated  clay  !  " 
But  not  as  yet  the  fatal  news  had  sj)read 

To  fair  Andromache,  of  Hector  dead  ; 

As  yet  no  messenger  had  told  his  fate, 

Nor  ev'n  his  stay  without  the  Sci«an  gate. 

Far  in  the  close  recesses  of  the  dome 

Pensive  she  plied  the  melancholy  loom  ; 

A  growing  work  employ'd  her  secret  hours, 

Confus'dly  gay  with  intermingled  flow'rs. 

Her  fair-hair'd  handmaids  heat  the  brazen  urn,  570 

The  bath  preparing  for  her  lord's  return  : 

In  vain  ;  alas  !  her  lord  returns  no  more  I 

Unbath'd  he  lies,  and  bleeds  along  the  shore  ! 

547.  JILc'd  (he  fender  shower  is  a  good  example  of  Pope's  artificial 
style.     Translate  it  into  plain  Eni^lish. 

567.  There  is  notliinii  in  the  original  to  indicate  that  Andromache 
was  "pensive,"  or  that  her  task  was  a  "  melancholy  "  one,  up  to  the 
moment  when  her  ear  catches  the  sounds  of  grief  from  the  walls. 


».;^^^jfei*»i•. 


BOOK  XXII 


93 


Now  from  the  walls  the  clamours  reach  her  ear. 
And  all  her  members  shake  with  sudden  fear ; 
Forth  from  her  iv'ry  hand  the  shuttle  falls. 
As  thus,  astonish'd,  to  her  maids  she  calls  : 

'*'  Ah,  follow  me  I  "  (she  cried)  *^  what  plaintive  noise 
Invades  my  ear  ?     'Tis  sure  my  mother's  voice. 
My  faltering  knees  their  trembling  frame  desert,  580 

A  pulse  unusual  flutters  at  my  heart. 
Some  strange  disaster,  some  reverse  of  fate 
(Ye  gods  avert  it  !)  threats  the  Trojan  state. 
Far  be  the  omen  which  my  thoughts  suggest ! 
But  much  I  fear  my  Hector's  dauntless  breast 
Confronts  Achilles;  chas'd  along  the  plain, 
Shut  from  our  walls  !  I  fear,  I  fear  him  slain  ! 
Safe  in  the  crowd  he  ever  scorn'd  to  wait. 
And  sought  for  glory  in  the  jaws  of  fate : 
Perhaps  that  noble  heat  has  cost  his  breath,  δ90 

Now  quenclr'd  for  ever  in  the  arms  of  death.'* 

She  spoke  ;  and,  furious,  with  distracted  pace. 
Fears  in  her  heart  and  anguish  in  her  face. 
Flies  through  the  dome  (the  maids  her  step  pursue), 
And  mounts  the  walls,  and  sends  around  her  view. 
Too  soon  her  eyes  the  killing  object  found, 
The  god-like  Hector  di-agg'd  along  the  ground. 
A  sudden  darkness  shades  her  swimming  eyes: 
She  faints,  she  falls;  her  breath,  her  colour  flies. 
Her  hair's  fair  ornaments,  the  braids  that  bound,         600 
The  net  that  held  them,  and  the  wreath  that  crown'd, 
Tlie  veil  and  diadem  flew  far  away 
(The  gift  of  Venus  on  her  bridal  day). 
Around  a  train  of  weeping  sisters  stands. 
To  raise  her  sinking  Avith  assistant  hands. 

584.  Omen.  The  word  is  used  here  in  the  sense  of  foreboding, 
presage  of  evil.  Omen  usually  refers  to  something  outside  the  mind, 
not,  as  in  this  case,  to  the  thought  itself. 

601.  Pope  is  not  at  all  literal  here.  See  Introduction,  p.  xxv.,  for 
an  account  of  the  Homeric  woman's  headdress. 


il 


"Γ      94 


THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  XXII 


95 


Scarce  from  tlie  verge  of  death  recall'd,  again 
She  faints,  or  but  recovers  to  complain  : 

'Ό  wretched  husband  of  a  wretched  wife  ! 
Born  with  one  fate,  to  one  unhappy  life  ! 
For  sure  one  star  its  baneful  beam  disphiy'd  GlU 

On  Priam's  roof  and  Ilippophicia's  sliade. 
From  diSVent  parents,  ditf'rent  climes,  we  came. 
At  diif'rent  periods,  yet  our  fate  the  same  ! 
AVliy  Λvas  my  birth  to  great  Eetiou  ow'd, 
And  Avhy  was  all  that  tender  care  bestow'd  ? 
Would  I  had  never  been  I — 0  thou,  the  ghost 
Of  my  dead  husband  !  miserably  lost  ! 
Thou  to  the  dismal  realms  for  ever  gone  ! 
And  I  abandoned,  desolate,  alone  ! 

An  only  child,  once  comfort  of  my  pains,  620 

Sad  product  now  of  hapless  love,  remains  ! 
No  more  to  smile  upon  his  sire  !  no  friend 
To  help  him  now  !  no  father  to  defend  ! 
For  should  he  ^scape  the  sword,  the  common  doom, 
What  wrongs  attend  him,  and  what  griefs  to  come  ! 
Ev'n  from  his  own  paternal  roof  expelFd, 
Some  stranger  plows  his  patrimonial  field. 
The  day  that  to  the  shades  the  father  sends, 
Eobs  the  sad  orphan  of  his  father's  friends  : 
lie,  Avretched  outcast  of  mankiiul  !  appears  6:50 

For  ever  sad,  for  ever  bath'd  in  tears  ; 
Amongst  the  happy,  unregarded  he 
Hangs  on  the  robe  or  trembles  at  the  knee ; 

608-661.  Cornimrc  Andromache's  lament  with  lier  speech  in  the 
sixth  book,  lines  510-550. 

609,610.  Homer  says  .simply  :  "To  one  fate  were  we  lioth  born." 
Pope  borrows  the  language  of  astrology  to  express  this  idea. 

611.  Ilippoplacia.     See  note  on  vi.,  539. 

024-653.  The  lines  in  the  original  are  now  generally  regarded  as 
an  interpolation,  on  the  ground  that  it  is  "a  eommon-plaee  on  the 
sorrows  of  orphanage."  Mr.  Lang  replies:  "Perhaps  we  do  not 
know  enough  of  Homeric  society  to  feel  certain  on  this  point." 


I 


Wiiile  those  his  father's  former  bounty  fed 

Nor  reach  the  goblet  nor  divide  the  bread: 

Tlie  kindest  but  his  present  wants  allay, 

To  leave  him  wretched  the  succeeding  day. 

Frugal  compassion  !     Heedless,  they  who  boast 

Both  parents  still,  nor  feel  what  he  has  lost, 

Siiall  cry,  ^  Begone  !  thy  father  feasts  not  here  : '         640 

The  wretch  obeys,  retiring  with  a  tear. 

Thus  wretclied,  thus  retiring  all  in  tears, 

To  my  sad  soul  Astyanax  appears! 

Forc'd  by  repeated  insults  to  return, 

And  to  his  widow'd  mother  vainly  mourn. 

He  who,  with  tender  delicacy  bred, 

With  princes  sported  and  on  dainties  fed, 

And,  when  still  ev'ning  gave  him  up  to  rest, 

Sunk  soft  in  down  upon  the  nurse's  breast. 

Must — ah  I  what  must  he  not?     Whom  Ilion  calls        650 

Astyanax,  from  her  well-guarded  walls, 

Is  now  that  name  no  more,  unhappy  boy  I 

Since  now  no  more  the  father  guards  his  Troy. 

But  thou,  my  Hector  !  li'st  expos'd  in  air. 

Far  from  thy  parents'  and  thy  consort's  care. 

Whose  hand  in  vain,  directed  by  her  love, 

The  martial  scarf  and  robe  of  triumph  wove. 

Now  to  devouring  flames  be  these  a  prey, 

Useless  to  thee,  from  this  accursed  day  I 

Yet  let  the  sacrifice  at  least  be  paid,  660 

And  honour  to  the  living,  not  the  dead  !'' 

So  spake  the  mournful  dame:  her  matrons  hear, 
Sigh  back  her  sighs,  and  answer  tear  with  tear. 

640.  The  idea  seems  to  be  that  a  child  who  has  lost  his  father  ij 
no  longer  favored  by  the  gods,  and  may  be  insulted  with  impunity. 

651.  See  Book  vi.,  line  467. 

661.  The  burning  of  Hector's  garments  will  be  a  consolation  to 
the  living.  It  can  be  of  no  service  to  him,  since  they  cannot  be 
burned  on  his  pyre,  and  consequently  cannot  accompany  him  to 
Hades. 


96  THE  ILIAD 


BOOK  ΧΧΙΙΓ. 

FUNERAL   GAMES   IN    HONOUR  OP  PATROCLUS. 

Achilles  and  the  ^Myrmidons  do  honours  to  the  body  of  Patroclus. 
After  the  funeral  feast  he  retires  to  the  sea-shore,  where,  falling 
asleep,  the  ghost  of  his  friend  appears  to  hira,  and  demands  the  rites 
of  burial :  the  next  morning  the  soldiers  are  sent  with  mules  and 
waggons  to  fetch  wood  for  the  pyre.  The  funeral  procession,  and 
the  offering  their  hair  to  the  dead.  Achilles  sacrifices  several  ani- 
mals, and  lastly,  twelve  Trojan  captives,  at  the  pile;  then  sets  fire  to 
it.  He  pays  libations  to  the  winds,  which  (at  the  instance  of  Iris) 
rise,  and  raise  the  flame.  When  the  pile  has  burned  all  night,  they 
gather  the  bones,  place  them  in  an  urn  of  gold,  and  raise  the  tomb. 
Achilles  institutes  the  funeral  games:  the  chariot-race,  the  fight  of 
the  ca?stus,  the  wrestling,  the  foot-race,  the  single  combat,  the  discus, 
the  shooting  with  arrows,  the  darting  the  javelin:  the  various 
descriptions  of  which,  and  the  various  success  of  the  several  antago- 
nists, make  the  greatest  part  of  the  book. 

In  this  book  ends  the  thirtieth  day:  the  night  following,  the  ghost 
of  Patroclus  appears  to  Achilles :  the  one-and-thirtieth  day  is 
employed  in  felling  the  timber  for  the  pile;  the  two-and-thirtieth  in 
burning  it;  and  the  three-and-thirtieth  in  the  games.  The  scene  is 
generally  on  the  sea-shore. 


BOOK  XXIV.* 

THE  REDEMPTION  OP  THE  BODY  OF  HECTOR. 

The  gods  deliberate  about  the  redemption  of  Hector's  body. 
Jupiter  sends  Thetis  to  Achilles  to  disjwse  him  fot  the  restoring  it, 
and  Iris  to  Priam,  to  encourage  him  to  go  in  person  and  treat  for 
it.    The  old  king,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  his  queen, 

*  Book  xxiii.  describes  the  funeral  of  Patroclus  and  the  funeral 
games  instituted  by  Achilles.  Book  xxiv.  presents  a  new  phase  of 
the  Greek  chieftain's  character.  "It  is  not  enough,"  says  Mr, 
Syraonds,  "to  show  us  Achilles  serene  in  the  accomplishment  of  his 
last  service  to  Patroclus.  As  the  crowning  scene  in  the  whole  Iliad, 
Homer  has  contrived  to  make  us  feel  that,  after  all,  xVchilles  is  a 
man.  The  wrathful  and  revengeful  hero,  who  bearded  Agamemnon 
on  his  throne,  and  who  slew  the  unarmed  supplicant  Lycaon,  relents 


BOOK  XXIV 


97 


makes  ready  for  the  journey,  to  whieli  he  is  encouraged  by  an  omen 
from  Jupiter.  He  sets  forth  in  his  chariot,  with  a  waggon  loaded 
with  presents,  under  tiie  charge  of  IdaMis  the  herald.  Mercury  de- 
scends in  the  shape  of  a  young  man,  and  conducts  him  to  the  pavilion 
of  Achilles.  Their  conversation  on  the  way.  Priam  finds  Achilles 
at  his  table,'  casts  himself  at  Ins  feet,  and  begs  for  the  body  of  his  son: 
Achilles',  moved  with  compassion,  grants  his  request,  detains  him  one 
niglit  in  his  tent,  and  the  next  morning  sends  him  home  with  the 
body :  the  Trojans  run  out  to  meet  him.  The  lamentation  of  Androm- 
ache, Hecuba,  and  Helen,  with  the  solemnities  of  the  funeral. 

The  time  of  twelve  days  is  employed  in  this  book,  while  the  body 
of  Hector  lies  in  the  tent  of  Achilles.  And  a^  many  more  are  spent 
in  the  truce  allowed  for  his  interment.  The  scene  is  partly  in 
Achilles'  cj^mp,  and  partly  in  Troy. 

Now  from  the  finish'd  games  the  Grecian  band 
Seek  their  black  ships,  and  clear  the  crowded  strand  : 
All  stretch'd  at  ease  the  genial  banquet  share, 
And  pleasing  slumbers  quiet  all  their  care. 
Not  SO  Achilles  :  he,  to  grief  resign'd, 
His  friend^s  dear  image  present  to  his  mind, 
Takes  his  sad  couch,  more  unobserv'd  to  weep, 
Nor  tastes  the  gifts  of  all -composing  sleep, 
Kestless  he  roll'd  around  his  weary  bed, 
And  all  his  soul  on  his  Patroclus  fed  :  10 

The  form  so  pleasing  and  the  heart  so  kind, 
That  youthful  vigour  and  that  manly  mind, 

in  pity  at  a  father's  prayer.  Priam,  in  the  tent  of  Achilles,  presents 
one  of  the  most  touching  pictures  to  be  found  in  poetry.  We  know 
the  leonine  fierceness  of  xVchilles  ;  we  know  how  he  has  cherished 
the  thought  of  insult  to  dead  Hector  as  a  final  tribute  to  his  friend  ; 
even  now  he  is  brooding  in  his  lair  over  the  Trojan  corpse.  Into 
this  lion's  den  the  old  king  ventures.  Instead  of  springing  on  him, 
as  we  might  have  feared,  Achilles  is  found  sublime  in  generosity  of 
soul.  Begging  Patroclus  to  forgive  him  for  robbing  his  ghost  of 
this  last  satisfaction,  he  relinquishes  to  Priam  the  l)ody  of  his  son. 
Yet  herein  there  is  nothing  sentimental.  Achilles  is  still  the  same — 
swift  to  anger  and  haughty,  but  human  withal,  and  tender-hearted 
to  the  tears  of  an  enemy  at  his  mercy." 
1.  See  the  Argument  of  Book  xxiii. 
7 


98 


THE  ILIAD 


What  toils  they  shar'd,  what  martial  works  they  wrought, 

What  seas  they  measur'd  and  what  fields  they  fought  ;— 

All  pass'd  before  him  in  remembrance  dear  : 

Thought  follows  thought,  and  tear  succeeds  to  tear. 

And  novv^  supine,  now  prone,  the  hero  lay  ; 

Now  shifts  his  side,  impatient  for  the  day  ; 

Then  starting  up,  disconsolate  he  goes 

Wide  on  the  lonely  beach  to  vent  his  woes.  .       20 

There  as  the  solitary  mourner  raves, 

The  ruddy  morning  rises  o'er  the  waves  : 

Soon  as  it  rose,  his  furious  steeds  he  joinM  ; 

The  chariot  flies,  and  Hector  trails  behind. 

And  thrice,  Patroclus  !  round  thy  monument 

Was  Hector  dragged,  then  hurried  to  the  tent. 

Tliere  sleep  at  last  overcomes  the  hero's  eyes  ; 

AYhile  foul  in  dust  th'  nnhonour'd  carcass  lies. 

But  not  deserted  by  the  pitying  skies. 

For  Phoebus  watclrd  it  Avith  superior  care  ;  30 

Preserv'd  from  gaping  wounds  and  tainting  air  ; 

And,  ignominious  as  it  swept  the  field. 

Spread  o'er  the  sacred  corse  his  golden  shield. 

All  heav'n  was  mov'd,  and  Hermes  will'd  to  go 

By  stealth  to  snatch  him  from  th'  insulting  foe  : 

But  Neptune  tliis  and  Pallas  this  denies. 

And  th'  unrelenting  empress  of  the  skies : 

20.   Wide.     Tlie  idea  is  that  xVchilles  wanders  aimlessly. 

25.  The  monument^  as  described  in  Book  xxiii.,  was  a  mound  of 
earth  erected  on  the  spot  where  tiio  funeral  pyre  had  blazed.  The 
bones  of  Patroclus  were  placed  in  a  golden  urn  in  the  tent  of  Achilles. 

00.  Superior  care,  care  of  one  greater  than  a  niortal. 

']n.  Golden  shield.  The  literal  translation  is  goldeji  eegis.  This 
expression  has  caused  great  perplexity  to  commentators.  It  is 
pointed  out  that  the  legia  was  entrusted  l)y  Jove  to  ^Minerva  and  not 
to  Apollo. 

34.  Hermes  wilVd  to  go.  What  is  the  subject  of  wiWd  9  This  is 
the  first  allusion  in  Homer  to  I  he  thieyish  character  afterwards 
attributed  to  Hermes  (Mercury). 

37.  Juno  (Hera). 


40 


50 


BOOK  XXI  V  99 

E'er  since  that  day  implacable  to  Troy, 
What  time  young  Paris,  simple  shepherd  boy, 
AVon  by  destructive  lust  (reward  obscene), 
Their  charms  rejected  for  the  Cyprian  queen. 
But  when  the  tenth  celestial  morning  broke. 
To  heav'n  assembled,  thus  Apollo  spoke  : 

^'  Unpitying  pow'rs  !  how  oft  each  holy  fane 
Has  Hector  ting'd  with  blood  of  victims  slain  ? 
And  can  ye  still  his  cold  remains  pursue  ? 
Still  grndge  his  body  to  the  Trojans'  view  ? 
Deny  to  consort,  mother,  son,  and  sire, 
The  last  sad  honours  of  a  f  un'ral  fire  ? 
Is  then  the  dire  Achilles  all  your  care  ? 
That  iron  heart,  inflexibly  severe  ; 
A  lion,  not  a  man,  who  slaughters  wide 
In  strength  of  rage  and  impotence  of  pride  ? 
Who  hastes  to  murder  with  a  savage  joy  ; 
Invades  around,  and  breathes  but  to  destroy  ? 
Shame  is  not  of  his  soul ;  nor  understood 
The  greatest  evil  and  the  greatest  good. 
Still  for  one  loss  he  rages  unresign'd, 
Eepugnant  to  the  lot  of  all  mankind  ; 

38.  What  is  the  syntax  of  implacable  ? 

38-41.  The  only  allusion  in  the  Iliad  to  the  story  of  the  apple  of 
discord,  the  contest  of  beauty  between  Juno,  Minerva,  and  Venus, 
and  the  judgment  of  Paris,  which  led  to  liis  carrying  off  Helen,  tlie 
wife  of  Menelaus.    See  Gayley,  p.  285.    Compare  Tennyson's  (Enone. 

44-69.  State  Apollo's  argument  in  your  own  words. 

52-55.  Compare  the  prose  translation  for  the  rendering  of   this 

simile. 

56,  57.  Cowper  explains  the  passage  thus:  shame  is  "a  man's 
blessing  or  his  curse  :  his  blessing,  if  he  is  properly  influenced  by  it  ; 
his  curse  in  its  consequences,  if  he  is  deaf  to  its  dictates."  Mr.  Leaf 
thus  explains  the  two  meanings  of  the  Greek  word  translated  shame  : 
"The  Greek  word  expresses  on  the  one  hand  the  respect  for  the 
opinion  of  men  which  we  call  sense  of  honor  ;  on  the  other  it  can 
stand  for  the  wrong  shame  or  Avant  of  proper  boldness,  such  as  pre- 
vents a  man  from  properly  doing  his  work  in  the  world." 

C8.   What  is  liic  loss  V 


/, 


/ 


100 


TEE  ILIAD 


60 


70 


To  lose  a  friend,  a  brother,  or  a  son, 

Heav'n  dooms  each  mortal,  and  its  will  is  done  : 

Awhile  they  sorrow,  then  dismiss  their  care  ; 

Fate  gives  the  wound,  and  man  is  born  to  bear. 

But  this  insatiate  the  commission  giv'n 

By  fate  exceeds  ;  and  tempts  the  wrath  of  heav'n : 

Lo  liow  his  rage  dishonest  drags  along 

Hector's  dead  earth,  insensible  of  wrong  I 

Brave  though  he  be,  yet  by  no  reason  aw'd, 

He  violates  the  laws  of  man  and  God." 

''  li  equal  honours  by  the  partial  skies 
Are  doom'd  both  heroes  "  (Juno  thus  replies)  ; 
"  If  Thetis'  son  must  no  distinction  know. 
Then  hear,  ye  gods  !  the  patron  of  the  bow. 
But  Hector  only  boasts  a  mortal  claim. 
His  birth  deriving  from  a  mortal  dame  : 
Achilles,  of  your  own  etliereal  race, 
Springs  from  a  goddess  by  a  man's  embrace 
(A  goddess  by  ourself  to  Peleus  giv'n, 
A  man  divine,  and  chosen  friend  of  heav'n)  : 
To  grace  those  nuptials,  froin  the  bright  abode 
Yourselves  were  present ;  where  this  minstrel-god 
(Well-pleas'd  to  share  tlie  feast)  amid  the  quire 
Stood  proud  to  hymn,  and  tune  his  youthful  lyre.*' 

Then  thus  the  Thund'rer  checks  th'  imperial  dame : 
*'  Let  not  thy  wrath  the  court  of  heav'n  inflame  ; 
Their  merits  nor  their  honours  are  the  same. 


63.  Fate.    See  IntrotUiction,  p.  xxiv. 

70-83.  State  Juno's  argument  in  your  own  words. 

74.  Notice  the  wrong  position  of  only. 

76.  Ethereal  means  literally  high  in  aii•,  lioiue  heavenly,  belong- 
ing to  heaven. 

83.  The  Λ'erb  l•ymn  is  used  transitively,  meaning  to  celebrate 
in  song,  and  intransitively,  as  here,  to  sing  hymns.  Milton 
uses  the  word  in  the  same  sense  :  *'  And  touch'd  their  golden 
harps,  and  hymniiig  praised  God  and  His  works."  P.  Zr.,  vii., 
258. 


80 


BOOK  XXIV 

But  mine  and  ev'ry  god's  peculiar  grace 
Hector  deserves,  of  all  the  Trojan  race  : 
Still  on  our  shrines  his  grateful  oflf'rings  lay 
(The  only  honours  men  to  gods  can  pay)  : 
Nor  ever  from  our  smoking  altar  ceas'd 
The  pure  libation  and  the  lioly  feast. 
llowe'er,  by  stealth  to  snatch  the  corse  away 
AVe  will  not :  Thetis  guards  it  night  and  day. 
But  haste,  and  summon  to  our  courts  above 
The  azure  queen  ;  let  her  persuasion  move 
Her  furious  son  from  Priam  to  receive 
The  proffer'd  ransom,  and  the  corse  to  leave. 

He  added  not  :  and  Iris  from  the  skies 
Swift  as  a  whirlwind  on  the  message  flies  ; 
Meteorous  the  face  of  ocean  sweeps, 
Kefulgent  gliding  o'er  the  sable  deeps. 


101 


90 


100 


87.   Grace,  favor,  good  will. 
9G.   The  azure  queen,  Thetis. 

98.  Leave.  The  meaning  of  the  original  is  "  give  back,  re- 
store." 

99.  Iris,  goddess  of  the  rainbow,  the  messenger  of  Jupiter,  and 
occasionally  of  Juno,  his  wife.  Mercury  (Hermes),  on  the  otlier  hand, 
is  the  messenger  of  the  whole  Olympian  court.  Mr.  Gladstone  writes 
tlius  of  Iris  :  "Altliough  she  is  but  a  sketch,  she  is  one  of  those 
sketches  in  which  the  touch  of  the  incomparable  master  is  as  clearly 
seen  as  in  any  work  of  the  most  complete  development.  Only  the 
hand  that  drew  Nausicaa  (in  the  Odijsseij)  on  earth,  could  have  drawn 
Iris  in  the  skies.  She  seems  lighter  than  the  air  itself  upon  her 
golden  wings,  and  the  poet  always  employs  the  full  resources  of  pure 
dactylic  verse  to  signify  tlie  elastic  bound  with  which  she  starts  upon 
her  missions.  But  with  all  her  lightness,  she  plunges  'like  lead' 
(see  lines  107,  108)  through  the  waters  of  the  deep,  because  her  swift- 
ness is  more  essential  to  her  even  than  her  lightness.  In  full 
keeping  with  these,  so  to  speak,  physical  qualities,  is  her  ready, 
nimble  mind,  her  incessant  labor  for  some  purpose  of  good,  not  of 
ill,  and  the  total  absence  of  every  dark,  or  gross,  or  malicious  feature 
from  the  really  sweet  delineation  ;  although,  when  Zeus  has  inti- 
mated that  he  rather  wishes  his  inhibition  to  Pallas  to  be  rough,  she, 
as  his  faithful  organ,  shows  that  she  too  keeps  a  tongue  in  her 
head." 


103 


THE  ILIAD 


Between  where  Samos  wide  his  forests  spreads. 

And  rocky  Imbriis  lifts  its  pointed  heads, 

Down  plung'd  the  maid  (the  parted  waves  resound) ; 

Slie  phmg'd,  and  instant  shot  the  dark  profound. 

As,  bearing  death  in  the  fallacious  bait. 

From  the  bent  angle  sinks  the  leaden  weight ; 

So  pass'd  the  goddess  through  the  closing  wave 

Wliere  Thetis  sorrowed  in  her  secret  cave  :  110 

There  plac'd  amidst  her  melancholy  train 

(The  blue-hair'd  sisters  of  the  sacred  nuiin). 

Pensive  she  sate,  revolving  fates  to  come. 

And  Avept  her  godlike  son's  approaching  doom. 

Then  thus  the  goddess  of  the  painted  bow : 
*^  Arise,  0  Thetis  !  from  thy  seats  below  ; 
''Tis  Jove  that  calls."     *'And  why"  (the  dame  replies) 
*'  Calls  Jove  his  Thetis  to  the  hated  skies  ? 
Sad  object  as  I  am  for  heav'nly  sight  ! 
All !  may  my  sorrows  ever  shun  the  light !  VK) 

Howe'er,  be  lieav'n's  almighty  sire  obeyM." 
She  spake,  and  veil'd  her  head  in  sable  shade, 
AVhich,  flowing  long,  her  graceful  person  clad  ; 
And  forth  she  pac'd  majestically  sad. 

103.  The  island  mentioned  in  the  original  is  Samothrace,  not  Sanios. 
Locate  on  map  Samothrace,  Imbros,  and  Samos, 

107.  What  is  the  syntax  of  bearing  ?  Point  out  the  tautology  in 
this  line. 

108.  Pope  has  failed  to  translate  this  simile  correctly.  Literally  : 
"  And  she  sped  to  the  bottom  like  a  weight  of  lead  that,  mounted  on 
horn  of  a  fiel<l-ox,  goeth  down,  bearing  death  to  the  ravenous  fishes.''' 
Lead  has  been  used  as  a  "sinker"  in  deep-water  fishing  in  all  ages. 
The  liorn  must  mean  either  an  artiiieial  bait  or  else  a  tube  through 
which  the  line  is  passed. 

110,  111.  The  ideas  of  secret  and  melancholy  are  not  justified  by 
the  original. 

112.  The  Nereids. 

114.  See  note,  Book  xxii.,  348  ;  also  i.,  461. 

115.  What  is  meant  by  the  painted  bow? 

122.  Sable  shade  means  simi)ly  a  dark-hued  veil. 


BOOK  XXIV 


103 


( 


Then  through  the  world  of  waters  they  repair 
(The  way  fair  Iris  led)  to  upper  air. 
The  deeps  dividing,  o'er  the  coast  they  rise. 
And  touch  with  momentary  flight  the  skies. 
There  in  the  lightning's  blaze  the  sire  they  found, 
And  all  the  gods  in  shining  synod  round.  130 

Thetis  approach'd  with  anguish  in  her  face 
(Minerva  rising  gave  the  mourner  place)  ; 
E'en  Juno  sought  her  sorrows  to  console. 
And  offered  from  her  hand  the  nectar  bowl : 
She  tasted,  and  resign'd  it:  then  began 
The  sacred  sire  of  gods  and  mortal  man  : 

''  Thou  coni'st,  fair  Thetis,  but  with  grief  o'ercast. 
Maternal  sorrows,  long,  ah  long  to  last ! 
Suffice,  we  know  and  we  partake  thy  cares  ; 
But  yield  to  fate,  and  hear  ivhat  Jove  declares.  140 

Nine  days  are  past  since  all  the  court  above 
In  Hector's  cause  have  mov'd  the  ear  of  Jove ; 
'Twas  voted  Hermes  from  his  godlike  foe 
By  stealth  should  bear  him,  but  we  will'd  not  so  : 
We  will  thy  son  himself  the  corse  restore. 
And  to  his  conquest  add  this  glory  more. 
Then  hie  thee  to  him  and  our  mandate  bear  ; 
Tell  him  he  tempts  the  wrath  of  heav'n  too  far  : 
Nor  let  him  more  (our  anger  if  he  dread) 
Vent  his  mad  vengeance  on  the  sacred  dead  :  150 

But  yield  to  ransom  and  the  father's  pray'r. 
The  mournful  father  Iris  shall  prepare 
With  gifts  to  sue;  and  offer  to  his  hands 
Whate'er  his  honour  asks  or  heart  demands. '^ 

130.  Synod,  assembly  or  council. 

139.  Suffice.     The  meaning  is  :  Let  it  suffice  that  we  know,  eto. 

146.  The  glory  reserved  for  Achilles  is  that  he  shall  restore  the 
body  of  Hector  in  return  for  gifts  ;  whereas,  had  it  been  stolen  by 
Hermes  (see  lines  143,  144),  he  (Achilles)  would  have  received 
nothing. 

153.  What  is  the  mode  of  the  verb  offer  ? 


I 


104 


THE  JLTAD 


His  word  the  silver-footed  queen  attends, 
And  from  Olympus'  snowy  tops  descends. 
Arriv'd,  she  heard  the  voice  of  loud  lament, 
And  echoing  groans  that  shook  the  lofty  tent. 
His  friends  prepjire  the  victim,  and  dispose 
Kepast  unheeded,  wliilo  ho  vents  his  woes.  160 

The  goddess  seats  her  by  her  pensive  son  : 
S!ie  press'd  his  hand,  and  tender  thus  begun  : 

*'  llow  long,  unhappy  !  shall  tliy  sorrows  flow. 
And  thy  heart  waste  with  life-consuming  woe. 
Mindless  of  food  or  love,  whose  pleasing  reign 
Soothes  weary  life  and  softens  human  pain  ? 
Oh  snatch  the  moments  yet  witliin  thy  pow'r  ; 
Kot  long  to  live,  indulge  the  anvrous  hour  ! 
Lo  !  Jove  himself  (for  Jove's  command  I  bear) 
Forbids  to  tempt  the  wrath  of  hcav'n  too  far.  170 

No  longer  then  (his  fury  if  thou  dread) 
Detain  the  relics  of  great  Hector  dead  ; 
Nor  vent  on  senseless  earth  thy  vengeance  vain. 
But  yield  to  ransom  and  restore  the  slain.'' 

To  whom  Achilles:  "Be  the  ransom  giv'n, 
And  we  submit ;  since  such  the  will  of  heav'n.'' 

While  tlius  they  commun'd,  from  th'  Olympian  bowTs 
Jove  orders  Iris  to  tlio  Trojan  towVs : 
*'  Haste,  winged  goddess  !  to  the  sacred  town. 
And  urge  her  monarch  to  redeem  his  son ;  180 

Alone,  the  Hian  ramparts  let  him  leave, 
And  bear  what  stern  Achilles  mav  receive: 
Alone,  for  so  we  will:  no  Trojan  near  ; 
Except,  to  place  the  dead  with  decent  care. 
Some  aged  herald  Avho,  with  gentle  hand. 
May  the  slow  mules  and  fun'ral  car  command. 
Nor  let  him  death  nor  let  him  danger  dread. 
Safe  through  the  foe  by  our  protection  led  : 

155.  Attends,  pays  heed  to. 
177.  Scaa  this  line. 


BOOK  XXIV 


105 


Him  Hermes  to  Achilles  shall  convey, 

(Juard  of  his  life  and  partner  of  his  way.  190 

Ficrco  as  lie  is,  Achilles'  self  shall  spare 

His  [[^(\  nor  touch  one  venerable  hair  : 

Stunc  thought  there  must  be  in  a  soul  so  brave, 

Soim•  sense  of  duty,  some  desire  to  save." 

Then  down  her  bow  the  winged  Iris  drives, 
And  swift  at  Priam's  mournful  court  arrives; 
Where  the  sad  sons  beside  their  father's  throne 
Sate  bath'd  in  tears,  and  answer'd  groan  with  groan. 
And  all  amidst  them  lay  tlie  hoary  sire 
(Sad  scene  of  woe  !)  :  his  face  his  wrapped  attire  200 

Conceard  from  sight;  with  frantic  hands  he  spread 
A  show'r  of  ashes  o'er  his  neck  and  head. 
From  room  to  room  his  pensive  daughters  roam, 
AVhose  shrieks  and  clamours  fill  the  vaulted  dome; 
Mindful  of  those  who,  late  their  pride  and  joy, 
Lie  pale  and  breathless  round  the  fields  of  Troy  I 
Before  the  king  Jove's  messenger  appears. 
And  thus  in  whispers  greets  his  trembling  ears  : 

''  Fear  not,  0  father  !  no  ill  news  I  bear ; 
From  Jove  I  come,  Jove  makes  thee  still  his  care  ;       210 
For  Hector^s  sake  these  walls  he  bids  thee  leave, 
And  bear  what  stern  Achilles  may  receive : 
Alone,  for  so  he  wills:  no  Trojan  near. 
Except,  to  place  the  dead  Avith  decent  care. 
Some  aged  herald,  who  Avith  gentle  hand 
May  the  slow  mules  and  funeral  car  command. 
Nor  shalt  thou  death  nor  shalt  thou  danger  dread ; 
Safe  through  the  foe  by  his  protection  led  : 
Thee  Hermes  to  Pelides  shall  convey, 
Guard  of  thy  life  and  partner  of  thy  way.  220 

Fierce  as  he  is,  Achilles'  self  shall  spare 
Thy  age,  nor  touch  one  venerable  hair : 
Some  thought  there  must  be  in  a  soul  so  brave. 
Some  sense  of  duty,  some  desire  to  save.'' 


100 


TEE  ILIAD 


She  spoke,  and  vanisli'd.     Priam  bids  prepare 
His  gentle  mules,  and  harness  to  the  car ; 
There,  for  the  gifts,  a  polish'd  casket  lay  : 
His  pious  sons  the  king's  commands  obey. 
Then  pass'd  the  monarch  to  his  bridal-roora. 
Where  cedar-beams  the  lofty  roofs  perfume,  230 

And  where  the  treasures  of  his  empire  lay  ; 
Then  caird  his  queen,  and  thus  began  to  say  : 

'*  Unhappy  consort  of  a  king  distress'd  ! 
Partake  the  troubles  of  thy  husband's  breast : 
I  saw  descend  the  messenger  of  Jove, 
Who  bids  me  try  Achilles'  mind  to  move. 
Forsake  these  ramparts,  and  Avith  gifts  obtain 
The  corse  of  Hector  at  yon  navy  slain. 
Tell  me  thy  tliought :  my  heart  impels  to  go 
Through  hostile  camps,  and  bears  me  to  tiie  foe/'        240 

The  hoary  monarch  tlius  :  her  piercing  cries 
Sad  Hecuba  renews,  and  then  replies  : 
''Ah  I  whither  wanders  thy  distemper'd  mind  ; 
And  where  the  prudence  now  that  aw'd  mankind, 
Through  Phrygia  once,  and  foreign  regions  known, 
Now  all  confus'd,  distracted,  overthrown  ? 
Singly  to  pass  througli  hosts  of  foes  !  to  face 
(Oh  heart  of  steel  !)  the  murd'rer  of  thy  race  ! 
To  Tiew  that  deathful  eye,  and  wander  o'er 
Those  liands,  yet  red  with  Hector's  noble  gore  !  250 

Alas  !  my  lord  !  he  knows  not  how  to  spare. 
Ami  what  his  mercy,  thy  slain  sons  declare  ; 
So  brave,  so  many  fall'ii  I  to  calm  his  rage 
\^ain  were  thy  dignity  and  vain  thy  age. 
No  ! — pent  in  this  sad  palace,  let  us  give 
To  grief  the  wretched  days  we  have  to  live. 
Still,  still  for  Hector  let  our  sorrows  flow, 
Born  to  his  own  and  to  his  parents'  woe  ! 

245.  Locate  Phrygia,    The  name  is  inserted  by  Pope  to  fill  out 
the  line. 
249.  Deathful,  that  has  looked  on  so  many  deaths. 


BOOK  XXIV 


107 


Doom'd  from  the  hour  his  luckless  life  begun 

To  dogs,  to  vultures,  and  to  Peleus'  son  !  200 

Oh  !  in  his  dearest  blood  might  I  allay 

My  rage,  and  these  barbarities  repay  I 

For  ah  !  could  Hector  merit  thus  ?  whose  breath 

Expir'd  not  meanly  in  inactive  death  : 

He  pour'd  his  latest  blood  in  manly  fight. 

And  fell  a  hero  in  his  country's  right." 

"  Seek  not  to  stay  me  nor  my  soul  affright 
With  words  of  omen,  like  a  bird  of  night" 
(Replied  unmov'd  the  venerable  man)  : 
'^'Tis  heav'n  commands  me,  and  you  urge  in  vain.       270 
Had  any  mortal  voice  th'  injunction  laid, 
Nor  augur,  j)riest,  nor  seer  had  been  obey'd. 
A  present  goddess  brought  the  high  command  : 
I  saw,  I  heard  her,  and  the  word  shall  stand. 
I  go,  ye  gods  !  obedient  to  your  call : 
If  in  yon  camp  your  pow'rs  have  doom'd  my  fall. 
Content  :  by  the  same  hand  let  me  expire  ! 
Add  to  the  slaughter'd  son  the  wretched  sire  ! 
One  cold  embrace  at  least  may  be  allow'd. 
And  my  last  tears  flow  mingled  with  his  blood  ! "         280 

Forth  from  his  open'd  stores,  this  said,  he  drew 
Twelve  costly  carpets  of  refulgent  hue  ; 
As  many  vests,  as  many  mantles  told. 
And  twelve  fair  veils,  and  garments  stiff  with  gold  ; 
Two  tripods  next,  and  twice  two  chargers  shine, 
With  ten  pure  talents  from  the  richest  mine ; 

261.  A  rhetorical  image  intended  to  express  extreme  detestation. 
Compare  Achilles'  words,  Book  xxii.,  437. 

272.  Find  the  differences  between  augur,  priest,  and  seer.  In 
Homer,  the  priest  is  not  a  diviner.  See  Jebb,  Introduction  to 
Homer,  p.  51. 

273.  A  present  goddess  means  a  (;^)ddcss  who  actually  appeared  to 
me. 

274.  The  literal  rendering  is,  "And  her  word  shall  not  be  void." 
285.  Chargers.     The  word  charger,  meaning  a  large  dish,  is  now 

obsolete.     It  is  used  in  the  Bible,  3Iatthew  xiv.  8. 


108 


TEE  ILIAD 


And  last  a  large,  well-labour'd  bowl  had  place 

(The  pledge  of  treaties  once  with  friendly  Thrace)  : 

Seem'd  all  too  mean  the  stores  he  could  employ, 

For  one  last  look  to  buy  him  back  to  Troy  !  290 

Lo  !  the  sad  father,  frantic  with  his  pain. 
Around  him  furious  drives  his  menial  train  : 
In  vain  each  slave  with  duteous  care  attends. 
Each  office  hurts  him  and  each  face  offends. 
''  What  make  ye  here,  officious  crowds  \"  (he  cries) 
''  Hence,  nor  obtrude  your  anguish  on  my  eyes. 
Have  ye  no  griefs  at  home  to  fix  ye  there  ? 
Am  I  the  only  object  of  despair  ? 
Am  I  become  my  people's  common  show, 
Set  up  by  Jove  your  spectacle  of  woe  ?  300 

No,  you  must  feel  him  too  :  yourselves  must  fall  ; 
The  same  stern  god  to  ruin  gives  you  all. 
Nor  is  great  Hector  lost  by  me  alone : 
Your  sole  defence,  your  guardian  pow'r  is  gone  ! 
I  see  your  blood  the  fields  of  Phrygia  drown  ; 
I  see  the  ruins  of  your  smoking  town  ! 
Oh  send  me,  gods,  ere  that  sad  day  shall  come, 
A  willing  ghost  to  Pluto's  dreary  dome  !  " 

He  said,  and  feebly  drives  his  friends  away  : 
The  sorrowing  friends  his  frantic  rage  obey.  310 

Next  on  his  sons  his  erring  fury  falls, 
Polites,  Paris,  Agathon,  he  calls  ; 
His  threats  Deiphobus  and  Dins  hear, 
Hippothoiis,  Pammon,  Helenus  the  seer. 
And  gen'rous  Antiphon  ;  for  yet  these  nine 
SurvivM,  sad  relics  of  his  numerous  line  : 

''  Inglorious  sons  of  an  unhappy  sire  ! 
AVhy  did  not  all  in  Hector's  cause  expire  ? 

288.  Where  is  Thrace  ? 

289.  What  is  the  grammatical  subject  of  seem'd  ? 

290.  Pope's  meaning  is  not  clear.     The  original  means  :  "  For  he 
was  exceeding  fain  at  heart  to  ransom  his  dear  son." 

305.  Pope  here  uses  the  name  Phrygia  loosely  to  mean  the  Troad 
(see  Introduction,  p.  xxi  )  and  surrounding  countries. 


330 


BOOK  XXIV  109 

Wretch  that  I  am  !  my  bravest  offspring  slain. 

You,  the  disgrace  of  Priam's  house,  remain  !  320 

Mestor  the  brave,  renown'd  in  ranks  of  war. 

With  Troilus,  dreadful  on  his  rushing  car. 

And  last  great  Hector,  more  than  man  divine. 

For  sure  he  seem'd  not  of  terrestrial  line  ! — 

All  those  relentless  Mars  untimely  slew. 

And  left  me  these,  a  soft  and  servile  crew. 

Whose  days  the  feast  and  wanton  dance  employ. 

Gluttons  and  flatt'rers,  the  contempt  of  Troy  ! 

AYhy  teach  ye  not  my  rapid  wheels  to  run. 

And  speed  my  journey  to  redeem  my  son  ?" 

The  sons  their  father's  wretched  age  revere, 
Forgive  his  anger,  and  produce  the  car. 
High  on  the  seat  the  cabinet  they  bind  ; 
The  new-made  car  with  solid  beauty  shin'd  : 
Box  was  the  yoke,  emboss'd  with  costly  pains. 
And  hung  with  ringlets  to  receive  the  reins  : 
Nine  cubits  long,  the  traces  swept  the  ground  ; 
These  to  the  chariot's  polish'd  pole  they  bound. 
Then  fix'd  a  ring  the  running  reins  to  guide. 
And  close  beneath  the  gather'd  ends  were  tied.  340 

Next  with  the  gifts  (the  price  of  Hector  slain) 
The  sad  attendants  load  the  groaning  Avain  : 
Last  to  the  yoke  the  well-match'd  mules  they  bring 
(The  gift  of  Mysia  to  the  Trojan  king)  ; 
But  the  fair  horses,  long  his  darling  care. 
Himself  receiv'd,  and  harness'd  to  his  car  : 

322.  This  is  the  only  mention  of  Troilus  in  the  Iliad.  His  youth, 
beauty,  and  untimely  end  made  him  a  favorite  subject  with  sub- 
sequent poets.  Chaucer  told  the  story  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  and 
Shakspere  and  Dry  den  dramatized  it. 

333.  The  original  means  that  they  bound  the  body  of  the  chariot 
on  the  frame-work,  supported  by  the  wheels. 

346.  There  were  two  ears — one  drawn  by  mules  to  convey  the 
presents  ;  the  other,  drawn  by  horses,  in  which  Priam  and  the 
herald  rode.     Mark  the  false  rhyme. 


( 


no 


THE  TLTAD 


350 


360 


Griev'd  as  he  was,  lie  not  this  task  denied  ; 
The  hoary  herald  help'd  him  at  his  side. 
AVhile  careful  these  the  gentle  coursers  join'd, 
8ad  Hecuba  approaclrd  with  anxious  mind  ; 
Λ  ffolden  bowl  that  foam'd  with  fragrant  wine 
(Libation  destined  to  the  power  divine) 
Held  in  her  right,  before  the  steeds  she  stands. 
And  thus  consigns  it  to  the  monarch's  hands  : 

''  Take  this,  and  pour  to  Jove  ;  that,  safe  from  harms, 
His  grace  restore  thee  to  our  roof  and  arms. 
Since,  victor  of  thy  fears,  and  slighting  mine, 
Heav'n  or  thy  soul  inspire  this  bold  design  : 
Pray  to  that  god,  who,  high  on  Ida's  brow. 
Surveys  thy  desolated  realms  below, 
His  winged  messenger  to  send  from  high, 
And  lead  the  way  with  heav'nly  augury  : 
Let  the  strong  sovereign  of  the  plumy  race 
Tow'r  on  the  right  of  yon  ethereal  space. 
That  sign  beheld,  and  strengthened  from  above, 
Boldly  pursue  the  journey  mark'd  by  Jove ; 
But  if  the  god  his  augury  denies, 
Suppress  thy  impulse,  nor  reject  advice." 

"'Tis  just"  (said  Priam)  '*to  the  Sire  above 
To  raise  our  hands ;  for  who  so  good  as  Jove  ?  " 

He  spoke,  and  bade  th'  attendant  handmaid  bring 
The  purest  water  of  the  living  spring 
(Her  ready  hands  the  ewer  and  bason  held)  ; 
Then  took  the  golden  cup  his  queen  had  fill'd  ; 
On  the  mid  pavement  pours  the  rosy  wine, 
Uplifts  his  eyes,  and  calls  the  power  divine  : 

*'  0  first  and  greatest  I  heav'n's  imperial  lord  I 
On  lofty  Ida's  holy  hill  ador'd  ! 

359.  Jove. 

361.  His  winged  messenger,  the  eagle. 
372.  Living,  life-giving. 

375.  On  the  mid  pavement.     Literally,    "in  the  midst  of    the 
court,"  where  stood  the  altar  of  Jove. 


370 


BOOK  XXIV 


111 


To  stern  Achilles  now  direct  my  ways. 

And  teach  him  mercy  when  a  father  prays.  380 

If  such  thy  will,  despatch  from  yonder  sky 

Thy  sacred  bird,  celestial  augury  ! 

Let  the  strong  sov'reign  of  the  plumy  race 

Tow'r  on  the  right  of  yon  ethereal  space  : 

So  shall  thy  suppliant,  strengthen'd  from  above. 

Fearless  pursue  the  journey  mark'd  by  Jove." 

Jove  heard  his  pray'r,  and  from  the  throne  on  high 
Despatch 'd  his  bird,  celestial  augury  ! 
The  swift-wing'd  chaser  of  the  feather'd  game. 
And  known  to  gods  by  Percnos'  lofty  name.  390 

AV^de  as  appejirs  some  palace  gate  display'd, 
So  broad  his  pinious  stretch'd  their  ample  shade. 
As,  stooping  dexter  Avith  resounding  wings, 
Th'  imperial  bird  descends  in  airy  rings. 
A  dawn  of  joy  in  ev'ry  face  appears  ; 
The  mourning  matron  dries  her  tini'rous  tears. 
Swift  on  his  car  th'  impatient  monarch  sprung; 
The  brazen  portal  in  his  j^assage  rung. 
The  mules,  preceding,  draw  the  loaded  wain, 
Charg'd  with  the  gifts  ;  I(la3us  holds  the  rein  :  400 

The  king  himself  his  gentle  steeds  controls. 
And  through  surrounding  friends  the  chariot  rolls. 
On  his  slow  wheels  the  following  people  wait, 
Mourn  at  each  step,  and  give  him  up  to  fate  ; 
AV'ith  hands  uplifted,  eye  him  as  he  pass'd, 
And  gaze  upon  him  as  they  gaz'd  their  last. 

Now  forward  fares  the  fatlier  on  his  way. 
Through  the  lone  fields  and  back  to  Ilion  they. 
Great  Jove  beheld  him  as  he  cross'd  the  plain, 
And  felt  the  woes  of  miserable  man.  410 

384.  Priam  prays  that  the  eagle  may  appear  on  the  right. 

300.  Percnos,  the  black  eagle. 

393.  Dexter,  on  the  right  of  the  beholder. 

406.  Supply  the  ellipsis  after  as. 

410.  Felt,  sympathized  with. 


gJ!ιI^^!ϊi!a«i^ιs^fltt■j^a'..'«t^aftJ^aί^ai»Jl.^iiMίI^^ 


112 


THE  ILIAD 


Then  thus  to  Hermes  :  "Thoii,  whose  constant  cares 

Still  succour  mortals,  and  attend  their  pray'rs  I 

Behold  an  object  to  thy  charge  consign'd  ; 

If  ever  pity  touch'd  thee  for  mankind. 

Go,  guard  the  sire  ;  th'  observing  foe  prevent. 

And  safe  conduct  him  to  Achilles'  tent." 

The  god  obeys,  his  golden  pinions  binds, 
And  mounts  incumbent  on  the  wings  of  winds. 
That  high  through  fields  of  air  his  flight  sustain 
O'er  the  wide  earth  and  o'er  the  boundless  main;         420 
Then  grasps  the  wand  that  causes  sleep  to  fly. 
Or  in  soft  slumbers  seals  the  wakeful  eye  : 
Thus  arm'd,  swift  Hermes  steers  his  airy  way, 
And  stoops  on  Hellespont's  resounding  sea. 
A  beauteous  youth,  majestic  and  divine. 
He  seem'd  ;  fair  offspring  of  some  princely  line  I 

411.  Notice  that  Hermes  is  sent  as  a  guide,  while  Iris  acts  only  as 

a  messenger. 

415.  Prevent,  evade,  escape.  Trace  this  meaning,  and  other  de- 
rived meanings,  of  the  word,  from  the  original  meaning,  go  before. 

416.  What  is  the  syntax  of  safe  ? 

417-426.  Compare  this  passage  with  Milton's  Faradise  Lost,  v., 

266/. 

••  Down  thither  prone  in  flight 

He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  ethereal  sky 

Sails  between  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steady  wing, 

Now  on  the  polar  winds,  then  with  quick  fan 

Winnows  the  buxom  air.     .     .     . 

At  once  on  th'  eastern  cliff  of  Paradise 

He  lights,  and  to  his  proper  shape  returns, 

A  seraph  wing'd.     ... 

•  Like  Maia's  son  he  stood, 

And  shook  his  plumes,  that  heav'nly  fragrance  fdl'd 
The  circuit  wide." 

418.  Incximhent,  resting  on. 

419.  Wliat  is  the  syntax  of  high  9 

421.  The  wand  that  Hermes  carried  as  messenger  of  Heaven  was 
twined  with  snakes.  Through  it  he  lulled  to  sleep,  awoke  from  sleep, 
and  caused  dreams. 


9J 


440 


BOOK  XXIV  113 

Now  twilight  veiFd  the  glaring  face  of  day. 

And  clad  the  dusky  fields  in  sober  gray  ; 

AVhat  time  the  herald  and  the  hoary  king. 

Their  chariot  stopping  at  the  silver  spring,  430 

That  circling  Ilus'  ancient  marble  flows, 

Allow'd  their  mules  and  steeds  a  short  repose. 

Through  the  dim  shade  the  herald  first  espies 

A  mane's  approach,  and  thus  to  Priam  cries : 

''  I  mark  some  foe's  advance  :  0  king  !  beware  ; 

This  hard  adventure  claims  thy  utmost  care  ; 

For  much  I  fear  destruction  hovers  nigh. 

Our  state  asks  counsel.     Is  it  best  to  fly  ? 

Or,  old  and  helpless,  at  his  feet  to  fall 

(Two  wretched  suppliants),  and  for  mercy  call  ? 

Th'  afflicted  monarch  shiver'd  with  despair  ; 
Pale  grew  his  face  and  upright  stood  his  hair  ; 
Sunk  was  his  heart ;  his  colour  went  and  came  ; 
A  sudden  trembling  shook  his  aged  frame  ; 
When  Hermes,  greeting,  touch'd  his  royal  hand. 
And,  gentle,  thus  accosts  with  kind  demand  : 

**  Say  whither,  father  !  when  each  mortal  sight 
Is  seal'd  in  sleep,  thou  wander'st  through  the  night  ? 
Why  roam  thy  mules  and  steeds  the  plains  along 
Through  Grecian  foes  so  num'rous  and  so  strong  ?       450 
What   couldst  thou   hope,  shouldst   these  thy  treasures 

view, 
These,  who  with  endless  hate  thy  race  pursue  ? 
For  wdiat  defence,  alas  !  couldst  thou  provide  ? 
Thyself  not  young,  a  weak  old  man  thy  guide. 
Yet  suffer  not  thy  soul  to  sink  Avith  dread ; 
From  me  no  harm  shall  touch  thy  rev'rend  head  ; 

430.  Spring.     The  original  refers  to  a  stream  flowing  through  the 
plain 

431.  Urn'  ancient  marble.     The  tomb  of  Hus,  the  grandfather  of 
Priam,  whence  the  name  Ilium.     What  is  the  syntax  of  circling  f 

432.  What  is  the  grammatical  subject  of  allowed  f 
447.  Sight.     What  figure  of  speech  ? 


il 


114 


THE  ILIAD 


From  Greece  111  guard  thee  too  ;  for  in  those  lines 
The  living  image  of  my  father  shines." 

ίί  f\^\^j  words,  that  speak  benevolence  of  mind. 
Are  true,  my  son  ! "  (the  godlike  sire  rejoin'd)  460 

**  Great  are  my  hazards  ;  but  the  gods  survey 
My  steps  and  send  thee,  guardian  of  my  way. 
Hail  !  and  be  blest  !  for  scarce  of  mortal  kind 
Appear  thy  form,  thy  feature,  and  thy  mind." 

*'  Nor  true  are  all  thy  words,  nor  erring  wide  " 
(The  sacred  messenger  of  heav'n  replied)  ; 
''  But  say,  convey'st  thou  through  the  lonely  plains 
What  yet  most  precious  of  thy  store  remains. 
To  lodge  in  safety  with  some  friendly  hand. 
Prepared  perchance  to  leave  thy  native  land  ?  470 

Or  fly'st  thou  now  ?     What  hopes  can  Troy  retain. 
Thy  matchless  son,  her  guard  and  glory,  slain  ?  " 

The  king,  alarm'd  :  ''Say  what,  and  Λvhence  thou  art, 
Who  search  the  sorrows  of  a  parent's  heart, 
And  know  so  well  how  godlike  Hector  died  ?  " 
Thus  Priam  spoke,  and  Hermes  thus  replied  : 

**  You  tempt  me,  father,  and  with  pity  touch  : 
On  this  sad  subject  you  inquire  too  much. 
Oft  have  these  eyes  the  godlike  Hector  viewed 
In  glorious  fight,  with  Grecian  blood  imbru'd  :  480 

I  saw  him,  when,  like  Jove,  his  flames  he  toss'd 
On  thousand  ships,  and  withered  half  a  host : 
1  saw,  but  help'd  not ;  stern  Achilles'  ire 
Forbade  assistance,  and  enjoy'd  the  fire. 
For  him  I  serve,  of  IMyrmidonian  race  ; 
One  ship  conveyM  us  from  our  native  place  ; 
Polyctor  is  my  sire,  an  honoured  name. 
Old,  like  thyself,  and  not  unknown  to  fame  ; 

457.  Linen,  features. 

472.  What  is  the  object  of  Hermes'  questions  ? 
474.  Point  out  the  grammatical  error  in  this  hne. 
482.  See  Argument  of  Book  xv. 


BOOK  XXIV 


115 


Of  seven  his  sons,  by  whom  the  lot  was  cast 

To  serve  our  prince,  it  fell  on  me  the  last.  4U0 

To  watch  this  quarter  my  adventure  falls  ; 

For  with  the  morn  the  Greeks  attack  your  walls  : 

Sleepless  they  sit,  impatient  to  engage. 

And  scarce  their  rulers  check  their  martial  rage." 

'•  If  then  thou  art  of  stern  Pelides'  train  " 
(The  mournful  monarch  thus  rejoin'd  again), 
'^  Ah,  tell  me  truly,  where,  oh  !  where  are  laid 
My  son's  dear  relics  ?  what  befalls  him  dead  ? 
Have  dogs  dismember'd  on  the  naked  plains. 
Or  yet  unmangled  rest  his  cold  remains  ?  "  500 

*'  0  favour'd  of  the  skies  !"  (thus  answer'd  then 
The  pow'r  that  mediates  between  gods  and  men) 
"  Nor  dogs  nor  vultures  have  thy  Hector  rent ; 
But  whole  he  lies,  neglected  in  the  tent  : 
This  the  twelfth  evening  since  he  rested  there. 
Untouched  by  worms,  untainted  by  the  air. 
Still  as  Aurora's  ruddy  beam  is  spread, 
Eound  his  friend's  tomb  Achilles  drags  the  dead  ; 
Yet  uudisfigur'd,  or  in  limb  or  face. 
All  fresh  he  lies,  with  ev'ry  living  grace,  510 

Majestical  in  death  !     No  stains  are  found 
O'er  all  the  corse,  and  clos'd  is  ev'ry  wound  ; 
Though  many  a  wound  they  gave.     Some  heav'nly  care. 
Some  hand  divine,  preserves  him  ever  fair  : 
Or  all  the  host  of  heav'n,  to  whom  he  led  , 

A  life  so  grateful,  still  regard  him  dead." 

Thus  spoke  to  Priam  the  celestial  guide. 
And  joyful  thus  the  royal  sire  replied  : 
*'  Bless'd  is  the  man  who  pays  the  gods  above 
The  constant  tribute  of  respect  and  love  !  .   520 


498.  Relics,  remains. 
502.  Scan  this  line, 

507.  Aurora's  ruddy  beam,  the  dawn, 
for  the  dawn  ? 


What  is  Homer's  epithet 


116 


TEE  ILIAD 


Those  who  inhabit  the  Olympian  bow'r 

My  son  forgot  not,  in  exalted  pow'r  ; 

And  Ileav'n,  that  ev'ry  virtue  bears  in  mind, 

Ev'n  to  the  ashes  of  the  just  is  kind. 

But  thou,  0  gen'rous  youth  !  this  goblet  take, 

A  pledge  of  gratitude  for  Hector's  sake  ; 

And  while  the  fav'ring  gods  our  steps  survey. 

Safe  to  Pelides'  tent  conduct  my  way." 

To  wliom  the  latent  god  :   '*  0  king,  forbear 
To  tempt  my  youth  !  for  apt  is  youth  to  err  : 
But  can  I,  absent  from  my  prince's  sight, 
Take  gifts  in  secret,  that  must  shun  the  light  ? 
AVhat  from  our  master's  int'rest  thus  we  draw. 
Is  but  a  licens'd  theft  that  'scapes  the  law. 
Kespecting  him,  my  soul  abjures  th'  offence  ; 
And  as  the  crime  I  dread  the  consecpience. 
Thee,  far  as  Argos,  pleas'd  I  could  convey  ; 
Guard  of  thy  life,  and  partner  of  thy  way  : 
On  thee  attend,  thy  safety  to  maintain 
O'er  pathless  forests  or  the  roaring  main." 

He  said,  then  took  the  chariot  at  a  bound. 
And  snatch 'd  the  reins  and  whirl 'd  the  lash  around 
Before  th'  inspiring  god  tliat  urged  them  on 
The  coursers  fly,  with  spirit  not  their  own. 
And  now  they  reach'd  the  naval  walls,  and  found 
The  guards  repasting,  while  the  bowls  go  round  : 
On  these  the  virtue  of  his  wand  he  tries. 
And  pours  deep  shimber  on  their  watchful  eyes  ; 
Then  heav'd  the  massy  gates,  remov'd  the  bars, 
And  o'er  the  trenches  led  the  rolling  cars. 
Unseen,  through  all  the  hostile  camp  they  went. 
And  now  approacliM  Pelides'  lofty  tent. 


530 


540 


550 


537.  Argo8.     Probably  Argos  in  Thessaly  is  meant. 
547.  See  note  on  line  431. 

552.  The  description  of  Achilles'  "tent"  seems  to  follow  the  lines 
of  an  Acliaean  palace.    Se©  Jebb's  IiUrodmtion  to  Homer,  pp.  57-63. 


BOOK  XXIV 


117 


Of  fir  the  roof  was  rais'd,  and  cover'd  o'er 

With  reeds  collected  from  the  marshy  shore. 

And  fenc'd  with  palisades,  a  hall  of  state 

(The  work  of  soldiers),  where  the  hero  sate. 

Large  was  the  door,  whose  well-compacted  strength 

A  solid  pine-tree  barr'd  of  wondrous  length  ; 

Scarce  three  strong  Greeks  could  lift  its  mighty  weight. 

But  great  Achilles  singly  clos'd  the  gate.  560 

This  Hermes  (such  the  pow'r  of  gods)  set  wide  ; 

Then  swift  alighted  the  celestial  guide, 

And  thus,  reveal'd  :  ''  Hear,  prince  !  and  understand 

Thou  ow'st  thy  guidance  to  no  mortal  hand  : 

Hermes  I  am,  descended  from  above. 

The  king  of  arts,  the  messenger  of  Jove. 

Farewell :  to  shun  Achilles'  sight  I  fly ; 

Uncommon  are  such  favours  of  the  sky. 

Nor  stand  confess'd  to  frail  mortality. 

Now  fearless  enter  and  prefer  thy  pray'rs  ;  570 

Adjure  him  by  his  father's  silver  hairs, 

His  son,  his  mother  !  urge  him  to  bestow 

AVhatever  pity  that  stern  heart  can  know." 

Thus  having  said,  he  vanish'd  from  his  eyes. 
And  in  a  moment  shot  into  the  skies  : 
The  king,  confirm'd  from  heav'n,  alighted  there, 
And  left  his  aged  herald  on  the  car. 
With  solemn  pace  through  various  rooms  he  went. 
And  found  Achilles  in  his  inner  tent : 
There  sat  the  hero  ;  Alcimus  the  brave  580 

And  great  Automedon  attendance  gave  ; 
These  serv'd  his  person  at  his  royal  feast ; 
Around,  at  awful  distance,  stood  the  rest. 

Unseen  by  these,  the  king  his  entry  made  ; 
And,  prostrate  now  before  Achilles  laid. 
Sudden  (a  venerable  sight !)  appears  ; 
Embrac'd  his  knees  and  bath'd  his  hands  in  tears ; 

572.  Ills  son.     In  Book  xix.  it  is  explained  that  Achilles  left  a  son 
Ncoptolemus  in  Greece. 


...lai  rk  JliM.^  .'«iJ<'~aMiimr.^->-'j.<'&..ii^ia,^afcaif  .,ιΜΙΛίιίι'ί&αιΛίΜίι^•&ιΙίινα  iMBSi..i»**.i>i!u8an>  '■A^l^i.Alfe.jilteg  ..11 


118 


THE  ILIAD 


Those  direful  liands  his  kisses  press'd,  imbruM 
Ev  η  with  the  best,  the  dearest  of  his  blood  ! 

As  when  a  wretch  (wiio,  conscious  of  his  crime,        590 
Pursu'd  for  murder,  flies  his  native  clime) 
Just  gains  some  frontier,  breathless,  pak^  anuizM  : 
All  gaze,  all  wonder :  thus  Achilles  gaz'd  : 
Thus  stood  th' attendants  stupid  with  surprise  ; 
All  mute,  yet  Beem'd  to  question  with  their  eyes : 
Each  look\l  on  other,  none  the  silence  broke. 
Till  thus  at  last  the  kingly  suppliant  spoke  : 

*' Ah  think,  thou  favoured  of  the  povv'rs  divine  ! 
Think  of  thy  father's  age,  and  pity  mine  ! 
In  me,  that  father's  rev'rend  inuige  trace,  COO 

Those  silver  hairs,  that  venerable  face  ; 
His  trembling  limbs,  his  helpless  person,  see  I 
In  all  my  equal  but  in  misery  ! 
Yet  now,  perhaps,  some  turn  of  human  fate 
Expels  him  helpless  from  his  peaceful  state  ; 
Think,  from  some  powerful  foe  thou  see'st  him  fly. 
And  beg  protection  with  a  feeble  cry. 
Yet  still  one  comfort  in  his  soul  may  rise  ; 
He  hears  his  son  still  lives  to  glad  his  eyes  ; 
And,  hearing,  still  may  hope  a  better  day  GIO 

May  send  liim  thee  to  cliase  that  foe  away. 

590-594.  What  are  the  points  of  comparison  ? 

598-633.  Coleridge  remarks  on  this  passage:  "The  whole  scene 
between  Achilles  and  Priam,  when  the  latter  comes  to  the  Greek 
camp  for  the  purpose  of  redeeming  the  body  of  Hector,  is  at  once  the 
most  profoundly  skilful,  and  yet  the  simplest  and  most  affecting 
passage  in  the  Iliad.  .  .  .  Observe  the  exquisite  taste  of  Priam 
in  occupying  the  mind  of  Achilles,  from  the  outset,  with  the  image 
of  his  father  ;  in  gradually  introducing  the  parallel  of  his  own  situa- 
tion ;  and,  lastly,  mentioning  Hector's  name  when  he  perceives  that 
the  hero  is  softened,  and  then  only  in  such  a  manner  as  to  flatter  the 
pride  of  the  conqueror.  .  .  .  The  whole  passage  defies  transla- 
tion, for  there  is  that  about  the  Greek  which  has  no  name,  but  wliich 
is  of  so  fine  and  ethereal  a  subtlety  that  it  can  only  be  felt  in  the 
original,  and  is  lost  in  an  attempt  to  transfuse  it  into  another  lan- 
guage." 


BOOK  XXIV 


119 


No  comfort  to  my  griefs,  no  hopes  remain  : 

The  best,  the  bravest  of  my  sons  are  slain  ! 

Yet  what  a  race  I  ere  Greece  to  Ilion  came. 

The  pledge  of  many  a  lov'd  and  loving  dame  ! 

Nineteen  one  mother  bore — dead,  all  are  dead  ! 

How  oft,  alas,  has  wretched  Priam  bled  I 

Still  one  was  left,  their  loss  to  recompense  ; 

His  father's  hope,  his  country's  last  defence. 

Him  too  thy  rage  has  slain  !  beneath  thy  steel,  620 

Unhappy,  in  his  country's  cause  he  fell ! 

For  him  through  hostile  camps  I  bent  my  way  ; 

For  him  thus  prostrate  at  thy  feet  I  lay  ; 

Large  gifts,  proportioned  to  thy  wrath,  I  bear  : 

Oh,  hear  the  wretched,  and  the  gods  revere  ! 

Think  of  thy  father  and  this  face  behold  ! 

See  him  in  me,  as  helpless  and  as  old  ; 

Though  not  so  wretched  :  there  he  yields  to  me. 

The  first  of  men  in  sovereign  misery  : 

Thus  forc'd  to  kneel,  thus  grov'ling  to  embrace  630 

The  scourge  and  ruin  of  my  realm  and  race  ; 

Suppliant  my  children's  murd'rer  to  implore. 

And  kiss  those  hands  yet  reeking  with  their  gore  I'' 

These  words  soft  pity  in  the  chief  inspire, 
Touch'd  with  the  dear  remembrance  of  his  sire. 
Then  with  his  hand  (as  prostrate  still  he  lay) 
The  old  man's  cheek  he  gently  turn'd  away. 
Now  each  by  turns  indulg'd  the  gush  of  woe  ; 
And  now  tlie  mingled  tides  together  flow  : 
This  low  on  earth,  that  gently  bending  o'er,  640 

A  father  one,  and  one  a  son,  deplore  : 

612.  What  is  the  syntax  of  comfort  ? 

626-633.  Compare  Po[)e's  verse  with  the  prose  translation  :  "Yea, 
fear  thee  the  gods,  Achilles,  and  have  compassion  on  me,  even  me, 
bethinking  thee  of  thy  father.  Lo,  1  am  yet  more  piteous  than  he, 
and  have  braved  what  none  other  man  on  earth  hath  braved  before, 
to  stretch  forth  my  hand  toward  the  face  of  the  slayer  of  my  sons." 

637.   What  was  Achilles'  object  in  this  movement  ? 

641.  What  is  the  syntax  of  father  ? 


Λ 


120 


THE  ILIAD 


But  great  Achilles  diff'rent  passions  rend, 
And  now  his  sire  he  mourns,  and  now  his  friend. 
Th'  infectious  softness  through  the  heroes  ran  ; 
One  universal  solemn  sliow'r  began  ; 
They  bore  as  heroes,  but  they  felt  as  man. 

Satiate  at  length  with  unavailing  woes. 
From  the  high  throne  divine  Achilles  rose  : 
Τ  lie  rev'rend  monarch  by  the  hand  he  rais'd  ; 
On  his  wliite  beard  and  form  majestic  gaz'd,  650 

Not  unrelenting  :  then  serene  began 
With  words  to  soothe  the  miserable  man  : 

*' Alas  !  what  weight  of  anguish  hast  thou  known. 
Unhappy  prince  !  thus  guardless  and  alone 
To  pass  through  foes,  and  thus  undaunted  face 
The  man  whose  fury  has  destroyed  thy  race  ! 
Heav'n  sure  has  arm'd  thee  Avith  a  heart  of  steel, 
A  strength  proportioned  to  the  woes  you  feel. 
Eise  then  :  let  reason  mitigate  our  care  : 
To  mourn  avails  not :  man  is  born  to  bear.  6G0 

Such  is,  alas  !  the  gods'  severe  decree  ; 
They,  only  they  are  blest  and  only  free. 
Two  urns  by  Jove's  high  throne  have  ever  stood. 
The  source  of  evil  one,  and  one  of  good  ; 
From  thence  the  cup  of  mortal  man  he  fills. 
Blessings  to  these,  to  those  distributes  ills  ; 
To  most  he  mingles  both  :  the  wretch  decreed 
To  taste  the  bad,  unmix'd,  is  cursM  indeed  ; 
Fursu'd  by  wrongs,  by  meagre  famine  driv'n. 
He  wanders,  outcast  both  of  earth  and  heav'n.  070 

C45.  There  is  notliing  in  the  originiil  to  justify  tliis  line,  which 
seems  full  of  bathos. 

648.  The  throne  is  one  of  Pope's  usek-sa  ciiibcllishmeuts.  The 
word  in  the  original  means  seat. 

060.  Compare  Burns's  '*  Man  was  juuuu  to  mourn." 

009.  The  word  translated  famine  may  also  be  translated  gadfly, 
typefying  frenzy  or  rage. 


BOOK  XXIV 


121 


The  happiest  taste  not  happiness  sincere. 

But  find  tlie  cordial  draught  is  dash'd  with  care. 

λνΐιο  more  than  Peleus  shone  in  wealth  and  pow'r  ? 

AVhat  stars  concurring  bless'd  his  natal  hour  ! 

A  realm,  a  goddess,  to  his  wishes  giv'n, 

Grac'd  by  the  gods  with  all  the  gifts  of  heav'n  ! 

One  evil  yet  o'ertakes  his  latest  day ; 

No  race  succeeding  to  imperial  sway  : 

An  only  son  !  and  he  (ahis  !)  ordain'd 

To  fall  untimely  in  a  foreign  land  !  680 

See  him  in  Troy  the  pious  care  decline 

Of  his  weak  age,  to  live  the  curse  of  thine  ! 

Thou  too,  old  man,  hast  happier  days  beheld  ; 

In  riches  once,  in  children  once  excell'd  ; 

Extended  Plirygia  own'd  thy  ample  reign. 

And  all  fair  Lesbos'  blissful  seats  contain. 

And  all  wide  Hellespont's  unmeasur'd  main. 

But  since  the  god  his  hand  has  pleas'd  to  turn, 

And  fill  thy  measure  from  his  bitter  urn. 

What  sees  the  sun  but  hapless  heroes'  falls  ?  690 

War  and  the  blood  of  men  surround  thy  Avails  ! 

What  must  be,  must  be.     Bear  thy  lot,  nor  shed 

These  unavailing  sorrows  o'er  the  dead  ; 

Thou  canst  not  call  him  from  the  Stygian  shore. 

But  thou,  alas  I  mayst  live  to  suifer  more  !  " 

To  whom  the  king  :  ''  0  favour'd  of  the  skies  ! 
Here  let  me  grow  to  earth  !  since  Hector  lies 
On  the  bare  beach,  depriv'd  of  obsequies. 
Oh  give  me  Hector  !  to  my  eyes  restore 
His  corse,  and  take  the  gifts  !  I  ask  no  more  :  700 

Thou,  as  thou  mayst,  these  boundless  stores  enjoy  ; 
Safe  mayst  thou  sail,  and  turn  thy  wrath  from  Troy ; 

671.  Sincere,  true,  real. 

680.  See  note,  Book  xxii.,  449  et  seq. 

681,  682.  To  whom  does  him  refer  ?    To  whom,  does  his  ? 
085-687.  Phrygia  lay  to  the  east  of  the  Troad  ;  the  Hellespont,  to 

the  north  ;  and  tlie  island  of  Lesbos,  to  the  south. 


^*ίίίΜ.!!Λ|«ί-•Α»..«ίί»Βίίΐ»ϊί»ί&^^ 


122 


TEE  ILIAD 


71U 


720 


So  shall  thy  pity  and  forbearance  give 

A  weak  old  man  to  see  the  light  and  live  ! " 

*'  Move  me  no  more  "  (Achilles  thus  replies, 
AVhile  kindling  anger  sparkled  in  his  eyes)  ; 
'*  Nor  seek  by  tears  my  steady  soul  to  bend  ; 
To  yield  thy  Hector  I  myself  intend  : 
For  know,  from  Jove  my  goddess  mother  came 
(Old  Ocean's  daughter,  silver-footed  dame)  ; 
Nor  com'st  thou  but  by  heav'n,  nor  com'st  alone ; 
Some  god  impels  with  courage  not  thy  own  : 
No  human  hand  the  weighty  gates  unbarr'd. 
Nor  could  the  boldest  of  our  youth  have  dar'd 
To  pass  our  outworks,  or  elude  the  guard. 
Cease  ;  lest,  neglectful  of  high  Jove's  command, 
I  shew  thee,  king,  thou  tread'st  on  hostile  land  ! 
Eelease  my  knees,  thy  suppliant  arts  give  o'er. 
And  shake  the  purpose  of  my  soul  no  more." 

The  sire  obey'd  him,  trembling  and  o'eraw'd. 
Achilles  like  a  lion  rush'd  abroad  ; 
Automedon  and  Alcimus  attend, 
AVhom  most  he  honour'd  since  lie  lost  his  friend  ; 
These  to  unyoke  the  mules  and  horses  went. 
And  led  the  hoary  herald  to  the  tent ; 
Next,  heap'd  on  high,  the  num'rous  presents  bear 
(Great  Hector's  ransom)  from  the  polish'd  car. 
Two  splendid  mantles  and  a  carpet  spread 
They  leave,  to  cover  and  enwrap  the  dead  : 
Then  call  the  handmaids,  with  assistant  toil 
To  wash  the  body,  and  anoint  Λvith  oil. 
Apart  from  Priam  ;  lest  th'  unhappy  sire, 
Provok'd  to  passion,  once  more  rouse  to  ire 

705.  Mr.  Leaf  says  :  '*  This  outburst  on  the  part  of  Achilles 
shows  the  intense  stru^ifgle  through  which  he  is  passing.  It  is  all 
he  can  do  to  control  himself,  and  he  feels  that  he  will  not  be  able 
to  do  so  at  Jill  unless  he  is  left  to  act  in  his  own  way,  without 
being  either  hurried  or  doubted,  as  Priam's  words  would  seem  to 
imi)ly." 


730 


BOOK  XXIV 


123 


The  stern  Pelides  ;  and  nor  sacred  age 

Nor  Jove's  command  should  check  the  rising  rage. 

This  done,  the  garments  o'er  the  corse  they  spread ; 

Achilles  lifts  it  to  the  f un'ral  bed  : 

Then,  while  the  body  on  the  car  they  laid. 

He  groans,  and  calls  on  lov'd  Patroclus'  shade  : 

*'If,  in  that  gloom  which  never  light  must  know,    740 
The  deeds  of  mortals  touch  the  ghosts  below, 
0  friend  !  forgive  me  that  I  thus  fulfil 
(Restoring  Hector)  heav'n's  unquestion'd  will. 
The  gifts  the  father  gave  be  ever  thine, 
To  grace  thy  manes  and  adorn  thy  shrine." 

He  said,  and  ent'ring  took  his  seat  of  state, 
AVhere  full  before  him  rev'rend  Priam  sate  : 
To  whom,  compos'd,  the  godlike  chief  begun  : 
^^  Lo  !  to  thy  pray'r  restor'd,  thy  breathless  son  ; 
Extended  on  the  fun'ral  couch  he  lies  ; 
And  soon  as  morning  paints  the  eastern  skies. 
The  sight  is  granted  to  thy  longing  eyes. 
But  now  the  peaceful  hours  of  sacred  night 
Demand  refection,  and  to  rest  invite  : 
Nor  thou,  0  father !  thus  consumed  with  woe. 
The  common  cares  that  nourish  life  forego. 


750 


740-745.  Achilles'  prayer  to  Patroclus  to  pardon  him  for  the  ces- 
sion of  Hector's  body  is  the  last  touch  needed  to  depict  their  won- 
drous friendship.  Mr.  Symonds  points  out  "  that  fraternity  in  arms 
played  for  the  Greek  race  the  same  part  as  the  idealization  of  women 
for  the  knighthood  of  feudal  Europe."  Both  mythology  and  history 
bear  witness  to  the  fact.  "The  fruit  which  friendship  bore  among 
the  Greeks,"  continues  Mr.  Symonds,  "was  courage  in  the  face  of 
danger,  indifference  to  life  when  honor  was  at  stake,  patriotic  ardor, 
the  love  of  liberty,  and  lion-hearted  rivalry  in  battle." 

745.  3Ia?ies.  This  is  a  Roman  word  meaning  the  spirits  of  the 
dead  regarded  as  tutelary  divinities  of  the  household.  Here  it 
means  simply  the  ghost  or  spirit  of  Patroclus. 

748.  Compos'd,  restored  to  calmness. 

756.  Cares,  duties  ;  occupations. 


*.asit&ifixiA.»...zJ»v^!uUl,/&<iaa,i&Jii.^.i..,M^.iSa-j-a,Mi!^^ 


124 


TEE  ILIAD 


Not  thus  did  Niobe,  of  form  divine, 

Λ  parent  once,  whose  sorrows  equalFd  thine : 

Six  youthful  sons,  as  many  blooming  maids. 

In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  Stygian  sliades ;  760 

Those  by  Apollo's  silver  bow  were  slain, 

These  Cynthia's  arrows  stretch'd  upon  the  plain. 

So  was  her  pride  chastis'd  by  wrath  divine, 

AVho  match'd  her  own  with  bright  Latona's  line ; 

But  two  the  goddess,  twelve  the  queen  enjoy'd  ; 

Tliose  boasted  twelve  th'  avenging  two  destroyed. 

Steep'd  in  their  blood  and  in  the  dust  outspread. 

Nine  days  neglected  lay  expos'd  the  dead  ; 

None  by  to  weep  them,  to  inhume  them  7ione 

(For  Jove  had  turn'd  the  nation  all  to  stone)  :  770 

The  gods  themselves,  at  length  relenting,  gave 

Th'  unhappy  race  the  honours  of  a  grave. 

Herself  a  rock  (for  such  was  heav'n's  liigli  will). 

Through  deserts  wild  now  pours  a  weeping  rill ; 


757-779.  For  the  story  of  Kiobe,  see  Gay  ley's  Classic  Myths,  pp. 
126-139.  Homer  s  art  in  introducing  this  story  has  been  criticized  on 
the  ground  that  "it  is  no  inducement  to  Priam  to  take  food  to  say, 
•Eat,  for  Niobe  ate  and  was  turned  to  stone.'"  Mr.  Leafs  inter- 
pretation of  the  passage  is  as  follows  :  "Achilles  means,  'you  may 
well  eat,  without  appearing  Imrd  of  heart  ;  for  ΟΛτη  Niobe  ate  in  her 
grief,  and  she  is  actually  tlie  type  of  faithful  mourning,  and  chosen 
by  the  gods  themselves  to  embody  endless  grief  before  men  for- 
ever 


»  I» 


762.  Cynthia,  Diana  (Artemis),  so  called  because  she  was  born  on 
Mount  Cynthus,  in  the  island  of  Delos. 

769.  Inhume,  bury,  inter. 

773.  Herself  a  rock.  The  legend  is  that  Niobe  was  turned  into  a 
rock  that  preserved  her  form  and  features,  on  Mount  Sipylos  near 
Smyrna  in  Lydia.  Mr.  William  Cranston  Lawton,  in  his  Art  and 
Humanity  in  Homer,  remarks  on  this  passage  :  **  The  figure  thus 
alluded  to  is  a  sort  of  high  relief  against  a  background  of  natural 
rock.  The  shape  is  thrice  the  human  height,  and  some  two  hundred 
feet  from  the  ground.  A  trickling  spring  is  said  to  give  the  im- 
pression of  falling  teare." 


BOOK  XXIV 


125 


Where  round  the  bed  whence  Acheloiis  springs, 

The  wat'ry  fairies  dance  in  mazy  rings : 

There  high  on  Sipylus's  shaggy  brow 

She  stands,  her  own  sad  monument  of  woe  ; 

The  rock  for  ever  lasts,  the  tears  for  ever  flow. 

Such  griefs,  0  king  !  have  other  parents  known  :         780 

Kemember  theirs,  and  mitigate  thy  own. 

The  care  of  heaven  thy  Hector  has  appear'd  ; 

Nor  shall  he  lie  unwept  and  uninterr'd  ; 

Soon  may  thy  aged  cheeks  in  tears  be  drown'd. 

And  all  the  eyes  of  Ilion  stream  around.'^ 

He  said,  and  rising,  chose  the  victim  ewe 
AVith  silver  fleece,  which  his  attendants  slew. 
The  limbs  they  sever  from  the  reeking  hide, 
AVith  skill  prepare  them,  and  in  parts  divide  : 
Each  on  the  coals  the  separate  morsels  lays,  790 

And  hasty  snatches  from  the  rising  blaze. 
With  bread  the  glitt'ring  canisters  they  load 
AVhich  round  the  board  Automedon  bestowed  : 
The  chief  himself  to  each  his  portion  plac'd. 
And  each,  indulging,  shar'd  in  sweet  repast. 
When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  repressed. 
The  wond'ring  hero  eyes  his  royal  guest ; 
No  less  the  royal  guest  the  hero  eyes, 
His  godlike  aspect  and  majestic  size  ; 
Here  youthful  grace  and  noble  fire  engage,  800 

And  there  the  mild  benevolence  of  age. 
Thus  gazing  long,  the  silence  neither  broke 
(A  solemn  scene  !)  ;  at  length  the  father  spoke  , 

'^  Permit  me  now,  belov'd  of  Jove,  to  steep 
My  careful  temples  in  the  dew  of  sleep  : 

775.  Ac\elou%  a  river  of  Lydia. 

776.  WaVry  fairies.  The  fairy  is  a  comparatively  modern  inven- 
tion.    Homer  speaks  of  water-nymphs. 

804,  805.  "To  steep  my  careful  temples  in  the  dew  of  sleep"  is 
one  of  Pope's  peculiarly  artificial  expressions.  The  original  is 
translated:  "That  of  sweet  sleep  also  we  may  now  take  our  fill 


126 


Til  Κ   ILTAD 


For  since  the  day  that  nuniber'd  witli  the  dead 

My  hapless  son,  the  dust  has  been  my  bed, 

Soft  sleep  a  stranger  to  my  weeping  eyes, 

My  only  food,  my  sorrows  and  my  sighs  ! 

Till  now,  encourag'd  by  the  grace  you  give,  810 

I  share  thy  banquet  and  consent  to  live/' 

With  that,  Achilles  bade  prepare  the  bed, 
With  purple  soft  and  shaggy  carpets  spread  ; 
Forth  by  the  flaming  lights  they  bend  their  way. 
And  place  the  couches,  and  the  cov'rings  lay. 
Then  he:  ''  Now,  father,  sleep  ;  but  sleep  not  hero  ; 
Consult  thy  safety  and  forgive  my  fear, 
Lest  any  Argive  (at  this  hour  awake. 
To  ask  our  counsel  or  our  orders  take), 
Approacliing  sudden  to  our  open  tent,  8:^0 

Perchance  behold  thee  and  our  grace  prevent. 
Should  such  report  thy  honoured  person  here. 
The  king  of  men  the  ransom  might  defer. 
But  say  with  speed,  if  aught  of  thy  desire 
Remains  unask'd,  what  time  the  rites  require 
T'  inter  thy  Hector  ?     For  so  long  we  stay 
Our  slaughL'ring  arm  and  bid  the  hosts  obey." 
"If  then  thy  Avill  permit  "  (the  monarch  said) 
*'To  finish  all  due  honours  to  the  dead. 
This  of  thy  grace  accord  :  to  thee  are  known  830 

The  fears  of  Ilion,  clos\l  within  her  town  ; 
And  at  what  distance  from  our  walls  aspire 
The  hills  of  Ide  and  forests  for  the  fire. 
Nine  days  to  vent  our  sorrows  I  request  ; 
The  tenth  shall  see  the  fun'ral  and  the  feast ; 
The  next  to  raise  liis  monument  be  giv'n  ; 
The  twelfth  we  war,  if  war  l)e  doom'd  by  heav'n  I" 

'*  This  thy  request  "  (replied  the  chief)  ''  enjoy  : 
Till  then  our  arms  suspend  the  fall  of  Troy." 

at  rest."    Pope  usee  mmfiu  in  it»  original  sense  of  full  of  care  or 
trouble. 
832.  Aspire,  liera  used  in  llie  mnm  of  rtee. 


BOOK  XXIV 


127 


Then  gave  his  hand  at  parting,  to  prevent  840 

The  old  man's  fears,  and  turn^l  within  the  tent, 
AVhere  fair  Briseis,  bright  in  blooming  charms, 
Expects  her  hero  with  desiring  arms. 
But  in  the  porch  the  king  and  herald  rest. 
Sad  dreams  of  care  yet  wand 'ring  in  their  breast. 
Now  gods  and  men  the  gifts  of  sleep  partake  ; 
Industrious  Hermes  only  was  awake. 
The  king's  return  revolving  in  his  mind. 
To  pass  the  ramparts  and  the  watch  to  blind. 
The  pow'r  descending  hover'd  o'er  his  head,  850 

And,  ''  Sleep'st  thou,  father  ?"  (thus  the  vision  said) 

840.  This  is  tlie  last  occasion  on  which  Achilles  appears  as  an 
actor  in  the  Iliad.     A  few  days  afterwards,  according  to  the  later 
legend,  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  fatal  arrow  of  Paris.      His  ashes  were 
mingled  with  those  of  Patroclus.     The  words  of  Mr.  Symonds  may 
bring  his  story  to  a  fitting  close:  *'IIe  (Achilles),  more  than  any 
character  of  fiction,  reflects  the  qualities  of  the  Greek  race  in  its 
heroic  age.     His  vices  of  passion  and  ungovernable  pride,  his  virtue 
of  splendid  human  heroism,  his  free  individuality  asserted  in  the 
scorn  of  fate,  are  representative  of  that  Hellas  which  afterwards, 
at  Marathon  and  Salamis,  was  destined  to  inaugurate  a  new  era 
of    spiritual    freedom   for  mankind.      It  is   impossible   for  us  to 
sympathize  with  him   wholly,   or  to   admire   him  otherwise  than 
as  we  admire  a  supremo  work  of  art,  so  far  is  he  removed  from 
our  so-called  proprieties  of  moral  taste  and  feeling.     But  we  can 
study  in  him  the  type  of  a  by-gone,  infinitely  valuable  period  of 
the  world's  life,  of  that  age  in  which  the  human  spirit  was  emerging 
from  the  confused  passions  and  sordid  needs  of  barbarism  into  the 
higher  emotions  and  more  refined  aspirations  of  civilization ;  of  this 
dawn,  this  boyhood  of  humanity,  Achilles  is  the  fierce  and  fiery 
hero.     He  is  the  ideal  of  a  race  not  essentially  moral  or  political ;  of 
a  nation  which  subordinated   morals  to  art,   and  politics  to  per- 
sonality; and  even  of  that  race  he  idealizes  the  youth  rather  than 
the  manhood.     In  some  respects  Odysseus  is  a  truer  representative 
of  the  delicate  and  subtle  spirit  which  survived  all  changes  in  the 
Greeks.     But  Achilles,  far  more  than  Odysseus,  is  an  impersonation 
of  the  Hellenic  genius,  superb  in  its  youthfulness,  doomed  to  imma- 
ture decay,  yet  brilliant  at  every  stage  of  its  brief  career." 

844.  Porch,  fore-hall,  the  vestibule  of  the  great  hall.     See  Jebb's 
Infrnduetion  to  Homer,  p.  58, 


^jaejEjiuiaSiiaftf•'••^^'•--^''-*^'^"•  -■-'.jv— ;■»•■>■*-   • 


128 


TEE  ILIAD 


''  Έοψ  dost  tlioii  sleep  wlieii  Hector  is  restored  ? 

Nor  fear  the  Grecian  foes  or  Grecian  lord  ? 

Thy  presence  here  should  stern  Atrides  see. 

Thy  still-surviving  sons  may  sue  for  thee  ; 

May  offer  all  thy  treasures  yet  contain 

To  spare  thy  age  ;  and  offer  all  in  vain." 
Wak'd  with  the  word,  the  trembling  sire  arose 

And  rais'd  his  friend  :  the  god  before  him  goes  : 

lie  joins  the  mules,  directs  them  with  his  hand,  860 

And  moves  in  silence  through  the  hostile  land. 

When  now  to  Xanthus'  yellow  stream  they  drove 

(Xanthus,  immortal  progeny  of  Jove), 

The  winged  deity  forsook  tlieir  view. 
And  in  a  moment  to  Olympus  flew. 

Kow  shed  Aurwa  round  her  saffron  ray. 
Sprung  through  the  gates  of  light,  and  gave  the  day. 
Charg'd  with  their  mournful  load  to  Ilion  go 
The  sage  and  king,  majestically  slow. 
Cassandra  first  beholds  from  II ion's  spire  870 

The  sad  procession  of  her  hoary  sire ; 
Then,  as  the  pensive  pomp  advanc'd  more  near 
(Her  breathless  brother  stretch'd  upon  the  bier), 
A  showV  of  tears  overflows  her  beauteous  eyes. 
Alarming  thus  all  Ilion  with  her  cries  : 

"  Turn  here  your  steps  and  here  your  eyes  employ. 
Ye  wretclied  daughters  and  ye  sons  of  Troy  ! 
If  e'er  ye  rush'd  in  crowds  with  vast  delii(ht 
To  hail  your  hero  glorious  from  the  fight. 
Now  meet  him  dead,  and  let  your  sorrows  flow  I  880 

Your  common  triumph  and  your  common  woe." 
In  thronging  crowds  they  issue  to  the  plains, 
Nor  man  nor  woman  in  the  walls  remains : 

862.  Xanthtis,  another  iiiiu*e  for  Scamiindcr.     See  Introduction, 
p.  xxi. 

870.  Uassandra,  daughter  of  Priam,  gifted,  la  later  legend,  with 
the  power  of  prophecy. 


BOOK  XXIV 


129 


Li  ev'ry  face  the  self-same  grief  is  shewn. 

And  Troy  sends  forth  one  universal  groan. 

At  Sena's  gates,  they  meet  the  mourning  wain. 

Hang  on  the  wheels,  and  grovel  round  the  slain. 

The  Avife  and  mother,  frantic  with  despair. 

Kiss  his  pale  cheek  and  rend  their  scatter'd  hair  : 

Thus  wildly  wailing,  at  the  gates  they  lay ;  890 

And  there  had  sigh'd  and  sorrowed  out  the  day  ; 

But  godlike  Priam  from  the  chariot  rose  : 

^^  Forbear  "  (he  cried)  ^^  this  violence  of  woes; 

First  to  the  palace  let  tlie  car  proceed, 

Then  pour  your  boundless  sorrows  o'er  the  dead." 

The  waves  of  people  at  his  word  divide  ; 
Slow  rolls  the  chariot  through  the  following  tide  ; 
Ev'n  to  the  palace  the  sad  pomp  they  waitt 

They  weep,  and  place  him  on  the  bed  of  state. 

A  melancholy  choir  attend  around  900 

With  plaintive  sighs  and  music's  solemn  sound  : 

Alternately  they  sing,  alternate  flow 

Til'  obedient  tears,  melodious  in  their  woe  ; 

AYhile  deeper  sorrows  groaii  from  each  full  heart. 

And  nature  speaks  at  ev'ry  pause  of  art. 

First  to  the  corse  the  weeping  consort  flew ; 

Around  his  neck  her  milk-white  arms  she  threw  : 

And,  ''  0  my  Hector  I  oh  my  lord  ! "  she  cries  ; 

''Snatch'd  in  thy  bloom  from  these  desiring  eyes  ! 

886.  At  Sma's  gates.     The  SciPaii  gate.     See  note  on  vi.,  297. 

888.   The  wife  and  mother.     Andromache  and  Hecuba. 

898.  Pomp,  funeral  procession.      Wait,  attend. 

906.  Andromache  appears  but  three  times  in  the  Iliad— in  the 
partnig  scene  in  the  sixth  book,  in  the  twenty-second  book  when 
Hector  is  killed,  and  now  when  his  bodv  is  brought  home  Xever- 
theless  she  is  the  type  of  the  wife  and  mother,  loving  and  beloved 
Ihrough  her  it  is  in  great  degree  that  men  have  come  to  admire 
Hector.  "  The  affection  of  Hector  for  his  wife,"  says  Mr.  Symonds 
*'no  less  distinguished  than  the  passion  of  Achilles  for  his  friend' 
has  made  tlie  Trojan  prince  rather  than  his  Greek  rival  the  hero  of 
modern  romance." 


' 


130 


THE  ILIAD 


ΓΠ 


Thou  to  the  dismal  realms  for  ever  gone  !  910 

And  I  abandoned,  desolate,  alone  ! 

An  only  son,  once  comfort  of  our  pains, 

Sad  product  now  of  hapless  love,  remains  ! 

Never  to  manly  age  that  son  shall  rise. 

Or  with  increasing  graces  glad  my  eyes  ; 

For  Ilion  now  (her  great  defender  shiin) 

Sliall  sink,  a  smoking  ruin,  on  the  plain. 

Who  now  protects  her  wives  with  guardian  care  ? 

λ\Ίιο  saves  her  infants  from  the  rage  of  war  ? 

ISOw  hostile  fleets  must  waft  those  infants  o'er  920 

(Those  Avives  must  wait  ^em)  to  a  foreign  shore  ! 

Thou  too,  my  son  !  to  barb'rous  climes  shalt  go. 

The  sad  companion  of  thy  mother's  woe  ; 

Driv'n  hence  a  slave  before  the  victor's  sword, 

Condemn'd  to  toil  for  some  inhuman  lord  : 

Or  else  some  Greek,  whose  father  pressed  the  plain, 

Or  son,  or  brother,  by  great  Hector  slain, 

In  Hector's  blood  his  vengeance  shall  enjoy, 

And  hurl  thee  headlong  from  the  tow'rs  of  Troy. 

For  thy  stern  father  never  spar'd  a  foe  :  930 

Thence  all  these  tears,  and  all  this  scene  of  woe  ! 

Thence,  many  evils  his  sad  parents  bore  ; 

His  parents  many,  but  his  consort  more. 

Why  gav'st  tliou  not  to  me  thy  dying  hand  ? 

And  why  receiv'd  not  I  thy  last  command  ? 

Some  word  thou  wouldst  have  spoke,  which  sadly  dear. 

My  soul  might  keep,  or  utter  with  a  tear  ; 

Which  never,  never  could  be  lost  in  air  ; 

Fix'd  in  my  heart,  and  oft  repeated  there  ! " 

92».  A  later  legend  says  that  this  was  actually  the  fate  of  Asty- 

anax. 

930.  In  this  line  Pope  has  misinterpreted  the  original,  whicli  is 
translated  :  "  For  no  light  hand  had  thy  father  in  the  grievous 
fray." 

934.  Up  to  this  point  Andromache's  lament  follows  the  same  lines 
as  that  in  the  twenty-second  book.  Note  that  the  concluding  words 
of  her  grief  are  for  Hector  himself. 


BOOK  XXIV 


131 


Thus  to  her  weeping  maids  she  makes  her  moan  ;     940 
Her  weeping  handmaids  echo  groan  for  groan. 

The  mournful  mother  next  sustains  her  part  : 
'*'  0  thou,  the  best,  the  dearest  to  my  heart  ! 
Of  all  my  race  thou  most  by  heav'n  approv'd. 
And  by  th'  immortals  ev'n  in  death  belov'd  ! 
While  all  my  other  sons  in  barb'rous  bands 
Achilles  bound,  and  sold  to  foreign  lands. 
This  felt  no  chains,  but  went,  a  glorious  ghost. 
Free  and  a  hero,  to  the  Stygian  coast. 
Sentenc'd,  'tis  true,  by  his  inhuman  doom,  950 

Thy  noble  corse  was  dragg'd  around  the  tomb 
(The  tomb  of  him  thy  warlike  arm  had  slain) ; 
Ungen'rous  insult,  impotent  and  vain  ! 
Yet  glow'st  thou  fresh  with  ev'ry  living  grace. 
No  mark  of  pain  or  violence  of  face  ; 
Eosy  and  fair  !  as  PhcBbus'  silver  bow 
Dismiss'd  thee  gently  to  the  shades  below." 

Thus  spoke  the  dame,  and  melted  into  tears. 
Sad  Helen  next  in  pomp  of  grief  appears  : 
Fast  from  the  shining  sluices  of  her  eyes  960 

Fall  the  round  crystal  drops,  while  thus  she  cries  : 

*^  Ah,  dearest  friend  !  in  whom  the  gods  had  join'd 
The  mildest  manners  with  the  bravest  mind  ; 

942.  Mr.  Leaf  interprets  Hecuba's  speech  in  this  wise  :  "  Though 
Achilles  has  dealt  witli  thee  so  fur  more  harshly  than  with  my  other 
sons,  yet  the  gods  have  turned  this  very  thing  to  thine  honor  ;  for 
they  have  kept  thy  body  fresh,  all  outraged  though  it  was." 

956,  957.  Apollo,  it  was  supposed,  brought  sudden  death  to  men. 
See  note  on  i.,  60. 

962.  There  is  no  finer  touch  in  the  whole  poem  than  the  lament  of 
Helen  over  the  body  of  Hector.  "  It  would  have  been  impossible," 
says  Mr.  Symonds,  "  to  enhance  more  wortliily  than  thus  the  spirit 
of  courtesy  and  knightly  kindness  which  was  in  Hector— qualities,  in 
truth,  wliich,  together  with  his  loyalty  to  Andromache,  endeared  the 
champion  of  the  Trojans  to  chivalry,  and  placed  Hector  upon  the 
list  of  worthies  beside  King  Arthur  and  Godfrey  of  Bouillon." 


«iitnTi-iJaj-.-i>.>-J-..  >.JM-^.]^ll■a?a«.J^t.■.Λ»:J■Bl•l•«■  ^ga-'f  .o..A.«aji 


nz 


THE  ILIAD 


Kovv  twice  ten  years  (unliappy  years)  are  o'er 

Since  Paris  brought  me  to  the  Trojan  shore 

(Oh  had  I  perish'd,  ere  that  form  divine 

Seduced  this  soft,  this  easy  heart  of  mine  I)  ; 

Yet  was  it  ne'er  my  fate  from  thee  to  find 

A  deed  ungentle  or  a  word  unkind  : 

When  otliers  curs'd  tlie  auth'ress  of  their  woe. 

Thy  pity  checked  my  sorrows  in  their  flow  : 

If  some  proud  brother  ey'd  me  with  disdain, 

Or  scornful  sister  with  her  sweeping  train. 

Thy  gentle  accents  soften'd  all  my  pain. 

For  thee  I  mourn  ;  and  mourn  myself  in  thee. 

The  wretched  source  of  all  this  misery  ! 

The  fate  I  caus'd  for  ever  I  bemoan ; 

Sad  Helen  has  no  friend  now  thou  art  gone  ! 

Through  Troy's  wide  streets  abandon'd  shall  I  roam, 


970 


}y 


980 


In  Troy  deserted,  as  abhorrVl  at  home  ! 

So  spoke  the  fair  with  sorrow-streaming  eye  ; 
Distressful  beauty  melts  each  stander-by  ; 
On  all  around  th'  infectious  sorrow  grows  ; 
But  Priam  check'd  the  torrent  as  it  rose  : 
'*  Perform,  ye  Trojans  !  what  the  rites  require. 
And  fell  the  forests  for  a  f un'ral  pyre  ; 
Twelve  days,  nor  foes  nor  secret  ambush  dread; 
Achilles  grants  these  honours  to  the  dead." 

964.  The  twenty  years  that  Helen  says  she  lived  in  Troy  is  a 
dreadful  stiirabling-bloek  to  coininentators.  It  is  better  to  "give 
it  up." 

980.  Coleridge  says  of  Helen  :  "She  is,  tlirough  the  Iliad,  a  genu- 
ine lady,  graceful  in  motion  and  speech,  noble  in  her  associations, 
full  of  remorse  for  a  fault  for  which  higher  powers  seem  responsible, 
yet  grateful  and  affectionate  toward  those  with  whom  that  fault  had 
committed  her." 

Of  Helen  Mr.  Gladstone  remarks  :  "With  '  beauty  such  as  never 
woman  wore,'  and  with  the  infirmity  of  purpose  which  chequered  her 
career,  she  unites  not  only  grace  and  kindliness,  but  a  deep  humility, 
and  a  peculiar  self-condemnation,  wliich  come  nearer  to  the  grace  of 
Christian  repentance  than  anything,  in  my  knowledge,  that  has  come 
down  to  us  with  the  ancient  leai-ning." 


■ 


BOOK  XXIV 


133 


He  spoke ;  and  at  his  word  the  Trojan  train 
Their  mules  and  oxen  harness  to  the  wain,  990 

Pour  through  the  gates,  and,  fell'd  from  Ida's  crown. 
Roll  back  the  gath'red  forests  to  the  town. 
These  toils  continue  nine  succeeding  days. 
And  high  in  air  a  sylvan  structure  raise. 
But  when  the  tenth  fair  morn  began  to  shine. 
Forth  to  the  pile  was  borne  the  man  divine 
And  plac'd  aloft :  while  all,  with  streaming  eyes. 
Beheld  the  flames  and  rolling  smokes  arise. 

Soon  as  Aurora,  daughter  of  tlie  dawn. 
With  rosy  lustre  streak'd  the  dewy  lawn,  looo 

Again  the  mournful  crowds  surround  the  pyre. 
And  quench  with  wine  the  yet-remaining  fire. 
The  snowy  bones  his  friends  and  brothers  place 
(With  tears  collected)  in  a  golden  vase  ; 
The  golden  vase  in  purple  palls  they  rolPd 
Of  softest  texture  and  inwrought  with  gold. 
Last,  o'er  the  urn  the  sacred  earth  they  spread. 
And  rais'd  the  tomb,  memorial  of  the  dead 
(Strong  guards  and  spies,  till  all  the  rites  were  done, 
Watch'd  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun).  1010 

All  Troy  then  moves  to  Priam's  court  again, 
A  solemn,  silent,  melancholy  train  : 
Assembled  there,  from  pious  toil  they  rest  ; 
And  sadly  shar'd  the  last  sepulchral  feast. 

Such  honours  Ilion  to  her  hero  paid. 
And  peaceful  slept  the  mighty  Hector's  shade. 

1015,  lOlG.  Tiie  literal  translation  of  the  last  line  of  the  Hiad  is 
tliis  :  "  Thus  held  they  funeral  for  Hector,  tamer  of  horses."  Cow- 
per,  speaking  of  this  simple  ending,  says  :  "It  is  like  the  exit  of  a 
great  man  out  of  company  whom  he  has  entertained  magnificently  ; 
neither  pompous  nor  familiar  ;  not  contemptuous,  yet  without  much 
ceremony." 


ifiaaft,ai&Sffi.^BfeaiBfeilte*3i-l•  ^^^Α^ίΐΑΐΒξίΜΐίίίΒ^'^-ίίίιΜΜΑ^-Α  Jr-J^M^tW  3ί..:;ο^ι^ί»Μ8Α.^ 


Longmans'  English  Classics 


Books  prescribed  for  1897  Examinations,  p.  2. 
Books  prescribed  for  1898  Examinations,  p.  3. 
Books  prescribed  for  1899  Examinations,  p.  5. 
Books  prescribed  for  1900  Examinations,  p.  6. 
Other  Volumes  in  the  Series,        -        -        p.  7. 


f 


I 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH   CLASSICS 

EDITED    MY 

GEORGE  RICE  CARPEN  lER,  A.B., 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Composition  in  Columbia  College. 

This  series  is  designed  for  use  in  secondary  schools 
in  accordance  with  the  system  of  study  recommended  and 
outlined  by  the  National  Committee  of  'I'en,  and  in  direct 
preparation  for  the  uniform  entrance  requirements  in  Eng- 
lish, now  adopted  by  the  principal  American  colleges  and 
universities. 


Each  Volume  contains  full  Notes,  Introductions,  Rihliographies, 
and  otiier  explanatory  and  illustrative  matter.    Crown  8vo,  cloth. 


Books  Prescribed  for  the  i8gj  Examinations. 

FOR   READING. 

Shakspere's  As  You  Like  It.  Witli  an  introduction  by  Barrett 
Wendell,  Α.Π.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  Harvard 
University,  and  notes  by  William  Lyon  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  English  in  Yale  University.     Portrait. 

Defoe's  History  of  the  Plague  in  London.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Professor  G.  R.  Carpenter,  of 
Columbia  College•     With  Portrait  of  Defoe. 

Irving's  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  With  an  introduction  by 
Brander  Matthews,  Professorof  Literature  in  Columbia  College, 
and  explanatory  notes  by  the  general  editor  of  the  series. 
With  Portrait  of  Irving. 


t 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH   CLASSICS 


Books  Prescribed  for  /<5'p7— Continued. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Robert  Herrick,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Rhetoric 
in  the  University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  George  Eliot. 

FOR  STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Merchant  of  Venice.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  Francis  B.  Gummere,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English 
in  Haverford  College;  Member  of  the  Conference  on  English 
of  the  National  Committee  of  Ten.     With  Portrait. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  Professor 
of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 
With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

Scott's  Marmion.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
Robert  Morss  Lovett,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in 
the  University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Macaulay's  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction  and  notes,  by  the  Rev.  Huber  Gray  Buehler,  of  the 
Hotchkiss  School,  Lakeville.  Conn.     With  Portrait  of  Johnson. 


Books  Prescribed  for  the  1898  Examinations. 
FOR  READING. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  Π.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D., 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  in  Union  College.  With 
Portrait  of  Milton. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  I.,  VL,  XXII.,  and  XXIV. 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  William  H.  Maxwell, 
A.M.,  Ph.D.,  Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction,  Brooklyn, 
N.  Y.,  and  Percival  Chubb,  Instructor  in  English,  Manual 
Training  High  School,  Brooklyn.     With  Portrait  of  Pope. 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Books  Prescribed  for  /(?p<?— Continued. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers,  from  "The  Spectator." 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M., 
of  the  Roxbury  Latin  School.  Roxbury.  Mass.  With  Portrait 
of  Addison. 

GoLDSMiTirs  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.M.,  Professor  of 
Rlietoric  and  Old  English  in  Smith  College.  With  Portrait  of 
Goldsmith. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Herbert  Bates,  A.B.,  Instructor 
in  English  in  the  University  of  Nebraska.  With  Portrait  of 
Coleridge. 

SOUTHEY'S  Life  of  Nelson.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Edwin  L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Englewood  High 
School,  Illinois.     With  Portrait  of  Nelson  and  plans  of  battles. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate  Principal  of  the 
Newark  Academy.  Newark.  N.  J.     With  Portrait  of  Burns. 

FOR  STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes, 
by  John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  the  English 
Language  in  Brown  University.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale 
University.     With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

DE  QuiNCEY's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin,  Ph.D.,  Instructor 
in  Rhetoric  in  Yale  University.     With  Portrait  of  De  Quincey. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited  with  Introduction  and 
Notes  by  George  Edward  Wooilberry,  A.B.,  Professor  of 
Literature  in  Columbia  College.      With  Portrait  of  Tennyson. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


ΈοοΗε  Prescribed  for  the  1899  Examinations. 

PoPE^s  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII..  and  XXIV. 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  William  H.  Maxwell, 
A.M.,  Ph.D.,  Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction.  Brooklyn,' 
N.  Y.,  and  Percival  Chubb.  Instructor  in  English,  Manual 
Training  High  School,  Brooklyn.     With  Portrait  of  Pope. 

Dryden's  Palamon  and  Arcite.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  James  W.  Bright.  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English 
Philology  in  Johns  Hopkins  University.  {Preparing. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers,  from  "The  Spectator." 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M., 
of  the  Roxbury  Latin  School,  Roxbury,  Mass.  With  Portrait 
of  Addison. 

GoLDSMn-H's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Mary  A.  Jordan.  A.M.,  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  and  Old  English  in  Smith  College.  With  Portrait  of 
Goldsmith. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Herbert  Bates.  A.B.,  Instructor 
in  English  in  the  University  of  Nebraska.  With  Portrait  of 
Coleridge. 

De  Ouincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin,  Ph.D.,  Instructor 
in  Rhetoric  in  Yale  University.     With  Portrait  of  De  Quincey. 

Cooper's  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans.  With  introduction  and 
explanatory  notes.  [/;;  preparation. 


FOR  STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes, 
by  John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  the  English 
Language  in  Brown  University.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D., 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  in  Union  College.  With 
Portrait  of  Milton. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Books  Prescribed  for  /<?pp— Continued. 
Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.    Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  Univer- 
sity.    With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate  Principal  of  the 
Newark  Academy,  Newark,  N.  J.     With  Portrait  of  Burns. 

Boohs  Prescribed  for  the  ι  goo  Examinations, 

(See  also  Preceding  Lists.) 

FOR  READING. 

Dryden's  Palamon  and  Arcite.  Edited  by  Professor  J.  W. 
Bright. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  L.  VL,-  XXIL,  and  XXIV. 
Edited  by  Superintendent  Maxwell  and  Percival  Chubb. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Covfri.fy  Papers.  Edited  by  Dr.  D.  O.  S. 
Lowell. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited  by  Professor 
Mary  A.  Jordan. 

De  Quincey's  Ft  τγ.τγτ  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited  by  Dr.  C. 
S.  Baldwin. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.     Edited  by  Professor  G.  E.  Wood- 
berry. 
Scott's  Ivanhoe.  [In  preparation. 

Cooper's  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans.  [In  preparation. 

FOR  STUDY, 

Shakspere's  Macbeth,     Edited  by  Professor  Manly. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II.  Edited  by  Pro- 
fessor E.  E.  Hale,  Jr. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited  by 
Dr.  A.  S.  Cook. 

Macaulay's  Essays  on  Milton  and  Addison. 


1 


I 


LOATGMAIVS*  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


The  following  volumes  arc  also  ready  : 
SCOTT'S  Woodstock.     Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
Bliss  Perry.  A.M.,  Professor  of  Oratory  and  ^Esthetic  Criticism 
in  the  College  of  New  Jersey.      With  Portrait  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott. 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Milton.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  James  GreenleafCroswell,  A.B.,  Head-master  of  the 
Brearlcy  School,  New  York,  formerly  Assistant  Professor  of 
Greek  in  Harvard  University.     With  Portrait  of  Macaulay. 

Shakspere's  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Geor<;e  Pierce  Baker,  A.B.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  English  in  Harvard  University.  With  Frontispiece, 
•Imitation  of  an  Elizabethan  Stage.' 

Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Okation,  together  with  other 
Addresses  relating  to  the  Revolution.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  Fred  Newton  Scott.  Ph.D..  Junior  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  in  the  University  of  Michigan.  With  Portrait  of 
Daniel  Webster. 

Milton's  L'Allegro.  Il  Penseroso.  Comus,  and  Lycidas. 
Edited,  with  introductions  and  notes,  by  William  P.  Trent,  A.M., 
Professor  of  English  in  the  University  of  the  South.  With 
Portrait  of  Milton. 


"  The  series  as  α  whole  certainly  marks  .  .  .  a  clear  advance 
beyond  all  its  predecessors."— 77/.'  Educational  Review,  February,  1896. 

"  We  have  seen  no  fitter  school  editions  of  these  works  which  are 
now  included  in  the  preparatory  reading  required  by  all  the  leading 
colleges  of  the  country."— 77/6'  Critic,  New  York. 

"  The  Suggestions  for  Teachers  are  likely  to  be  of  great  value,  not 
only  because  many  teachers  need  assistance  in  such  work,  but  also 
because  they  must  tend  to  introduce  the  uniformity  of  method  that  is 
hardly  less  valuable  than  the  uniformity  of  the  courses  themselves." 

—  The  Educational  Review,  February,  1896. 

* '  I  take  great  pleasure  in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  two 
beautiful  volumes  in  your  English  Classics.  .  .  .  They  are  not 
only  thoroughly  well  edited,  but  excellent  specimens  of  book-making, 
such  books  as  a  student  may  take  pleasure  in  having,  not  merely  for  a 
task  book  but  for  a  permanent  possession.  It  is  a  wise  project  on  your 
part,  I  think,  to  accustom  young  students  to  value  books  for  their 
mtrinsic  worth,  and  that  by  the  practical  way  of  making  the  books  good 
and  attractive."— Prof.  John  F.  Genung,  Amherst  College. 


3Ά 

-41 


Ht-'-ftUaA^fSeiaii-sAifylf.  ίιίίΒ?<ΒΜ•'&ί;***^*ΐι'ΐ*νίΐί:«'  tt.    --     •  Λ  a^r:?  «.tjUMw  ■BBA<i?tJ«a-j| 


8 


LONGMANS^   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


*'  You  are  to  be  congratulated  upon  the  excellence  of  the  series  of 
English  Classics  which  you  are  now  publishing,  if  I  may  judge  of  it 
by  the  three  numbers  I  have  examined.  ...  Of  these,  the  intro- 
ductions, the  suggestions  to  teachers,  the  chronological  tables,  and  the 
notes  are  most  admirable  in  design  and  execution.  The  editor-in-chief 
and  his  associates  have  rendered  a  distinct  service  to  secondary  schools, 
and  the  publishers  have  done  superior  mechanical  work  in  the  issue  of 
this  series."— Charles  C.  Ramsay,  Principal  of  Durfee  High  School, 
Fall  River,  Mass. 

*'  With  the  two  (volumes)  I  have  already  acknowledged  and  these 
four,  I  find  myself  increasingly  pleased  as  I  examine.  As  a  series  the 
books  have  two  strong  points:  there  is  a  unity  of  method  in  editing  that 
I  have  seen  in  no  other  series;  the  books  are  freer  from  objections  in 
regard  to  the  amount  and  kind  of  editing  than  any  other  series  I  know." 
—Byron  Groce,  Master  in  English,  Boston  Latin  School. 

•*  I  am  your  debtor  for  two  specimens  of  your  series  of  English 
Classics,  designed  for  secondary  schools  in  preparation  for  entrance 
examinations  to  college.  With  their  clear  type,  good  paper,  sober  and 
attractive  binding— good  enough  for  any  library  shelves— with  their 
introductions,  suggestions  to  teachers,  and  notes  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pages,  1  do  not  see  how  much  more  could  be  desired." 

—Prof.  D.  L.  Maulsby,  Tufts  College. 

"Admirably  adapted  to  accomplish  what  you  intend— to  interest 
young  persons  in  thoughtful  reading  of  noble  literature.  The  help  given 
seems  just  what  is  needed;  its  generosity  is  not  of  the  sort  to  make  the 
young  student  unable  to  help  himself.  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  the  plan 
and  with  its  execution."— Prof.  C.  B.  Bradley,  University  of  California; 
Member  of  English  Conference  of  the  National  Committee  of  Ten. 

"Let  tne  thank  yon  for  four  more  volumes  of  your  excellent  series 
of  English  Classics.  ...  As  specimens  of  book-making  they  are 
among  the  most  attractive  books  I  have  ever  seen  for  school  use;  and  the 
careful  editing  supplies  just  enough  information  to  stimulate  a  young 
reader.  I  hope  that  the  series  may  soon  be  completed  and  be  widely 
used."— Prof.  W.  E.  Mead,  Wesleyan  University. 

•*  The  series  is  admirably  planned,  the  '  Suggestions  to  Teachers ' 
being  a  peculiariy  valuable  feature.  I  welcome  all  books  looking  toward 
better  English  teaching  in  the  secondary  schools." 

—Prof.  Katherine  Lee  Bates,  Wellesley  College. 

**  They  are  thoroughly  edited  and  attractively  presented,  and  cannot 
fail  to  be  welcome  when  used  for  the  college  entrance  requirements  in 
English."— Prof.  Charles  F,  Richardson,  Dartmouth  College. 


\ 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


iRviNG's  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller.' 

*'  I  feel  bound  to  say  that,  if  the  series  of  English  Classics  is 
carried  out  after  the  plan  of  this  initial  volume,  it  will  contribute  much 
toward  making  the  study  of  literature  a  pure  delight." 

—Prof.  A.  G.  Newcomer,  Leland  Stanford  Jr.  University. 

**  I  have  looked  through  the  first  volume  of  your  English  Classics, 
Irving's  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller,'  and  do  not  see  how  literature  could  be 
made  more  attractive  to  the  secondary  schools." — Prof.  Edward  A, 
Allen,  University  of  Missouri  ;  Member  of  the  English  Conference  of 
the  National  Committee  of  Ten. 


"  I  have  received  your  Irving's  'Tales of  a  Traveller'  and  examined 
it  with  much  pleasure.  Tb.e  helpful  suggestions  to  teachers,  the 
judicious  notes,  the  careful  editing,  and  the  substantial  binding  make  it 
the  most  desirable  volume  for  class  use  on  the  subject,  that  has  come  to 
my  notice." — Edwin  Cornell,  Principal  of  Central  Valley  Union 
School,  N.  Y. 

George  Eliot's  'Silas  Marner.' 

"This  book  is  really  attractive  and  inviting.  The  introduction, 
particularly  the  suggestions  to  pupils  and  teachers,  is  a  piece  of  real 
helpfulness  and  wisdom." 

— D.  E.  Bowman,  Principal  of  High  School,  Waterville,  Me. 

"The  edition  of  'Silas  Marner' recently  sent  out  by  you  leaves 
nothing  undone.  I  find  the  book  handsome,  the  notes  sensible  and 
clear.  I'm  glad  to  see  a  book  so  well  adapted  to  High  School  needs, 
and  I  shall  recommend  it,  without  reserve,  as  a  safe  and  clean  book  to 
put  before  our  pupils." 

—James  W.  McLane,  Central  High  School,  Cleveland,  O. 

Scott's  'Woodstock.' 

"  Scott's  '  Woodstock,'  edited  by  Professor  Bliss  Perry,  deepens  the 
impression  made  by  the  earlier  numbers  that  this  series,  Longmans' 
English  Classics,  is  one  of  unusual  excellence  in  the  editing,  and  will 
prove  a  valuable  auxiliary  in  the  reform  of  English  teaching  now 
generally  in  progress.  .  .  .  We  have,  in  addition  to  the  unabridged 
text  of  the  novel,  a  careful  editorial  introduction  ;  the  author's  intro- 
duction, preface  and  notes  ;  a  reprint  of  '  The  Just  Devil  of  Woodstock'; 
and  such  foot-notes  as  the  student  will  need  as  he  turns  from  page  to 
page.  Besides  all  this  apparatus,  many  of  the  chapters  have  appended 
a  few  suggestive  hints  for  character-study,  collateral  reading  and  dis- 
cussions of  the  art  of  fiction.  All  this  matter  is  so  skillfully  distributed 
that  it  does  not  weigh  upon  the  conscience,  and  is  not  likely  to  make  the 


to 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


XI 


student  forget  that  he  is,  after  all,  reading  a  novel  chiefly  for  the 
pleasure  it  affords.  The  entire  aim  of  this  volume  and  its  companions 
is  literary  rather  than  historical  or  linguistic,  and  in  this  fact  their  chief 
value  is  to  be  found."  — The  Dial. 

*'  I  heartily  approve  of  the  manner  in  which  the  editor's  work  has 
been  done.  This  book,  if  properly  used  by  the  teacher  and  supple- 
mented by  the  work  so  clearly  suggested  in  the  notes,  may  be  made  of 
great  value  to  students,  not  only  as  literature  but  as  affording  oppor- 
tunity for  historical  research  and  exercise  in  composition." 

— Lillian  G.  Kimball,  State  Normal  School,  Oshkosh,  Wis. 

Defoe's  '  History  of  the  Plague  in  London.' 

"He  gives  an  interesting  biography  of  Defoe,  an  account  of  his 
works,  a  discussion  of  their  ethical  influence  (including  that  of  this 
•somewhat  sensational'  novel),  some  suggestions  to  teachers  and  students, 
and  a  list  of  references  for  future  study.  This  is  all  valuable  and  sugges- 
tive. The  reader  wishes  that  there  were  more  of  it.  Indeed,  the  criticism 
I  was  about  to  offer  on  this  series  is  perhaps  their  chief  excellence. 
One  wishes  that  the  introductions  were  longer  and  more  exhaustive. 
For,  contrary  to  custom,  as  expressed  in  Gratiano's  query,  'Who  riseth 
from  a  feast  with  that  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down?'  the  young 
student  will  doubtless  finish  these  introductions  hungering  for  more. 
And  this,  perhaps,  was  the  editor's  object  in  view,  viz.,  that  the  intro- 
ductory and  explanatory  matter  should  be  suggestive  and  stimulating 
rather  than  complete  and  exhaustive  !  " — Educational  Review. 

*'  I  have  taken  great  pleasure  in  examining  your  edition  of  Defoe's 
Plague  in  London.'  The  introduction  and  notes  are  beyond  reproach, 
and  the  binding  and  typography  are  ideal.  The  American  school-boy 
is  to  be  congratulated  that  he  at  length  may  study  his  English  from 
books  in  so  attractive  a  dress." — George  N.  McKnight,  Instructor  in 
English,  Cornell  University. 

**  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  the  copy  of  the  '  Journal  of  the 
Plague.'  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  Professor  Carpenter's  intro- 
duction and  his  handling  of  the  difficult  points  in  Defoe's  life." — Ham- 
mond Lamont,  A.B.,  Associate  Professor  of  Composition  and  Rhetoric 
in  Brown  University. 

Macaulay's  '  Essay  on  Milton.' 

**  I  have  examined  the  Milton  and  am  much  pleased  with  it ;  it  fully 
sustains  the  high  standard  of  the  other  works  of  this  series  ;  the  intro- 
duction, the  suggestions  to  teachers,  and  the  notes  are  admirable." 

—William  Nichols,  The  Nichols  School,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 


Τ 


"1  beg  to  acknowledge  with  thanks  the  receipt  of  Macaulay's 
'  Essay  on  Milton  '  and  Webster's  '  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration  '  in  your 
series  of  English  Classics.  These  works  for  preparatory  study  are 
nowhere  better  edited  or  presented  in  more  artistic  form.  I  am  glad  you 
find  it  possible  to  publish  so  good  a  book  for  so  little  money." 

—Prof.  W.  Η.  Crawshaw,  Colgate  University. 

"  I  am  especially  pleased  with  Mr.  Croswell's  introduction  to,  and 
notes  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  of,  his  edition  of  Macaulay's  *  Essay  on 
Milton.'  I  have  never  seen  notes  on  a  text  that  were  more  admirable 
than  these.  They  contain  just  the  information  proper  to  impart,  and 
are  unusually  well  expressed." 

—Charles  C.  Ramsay,  Principal  of  Fall  River  High  School. 

Coleridge's  'Ancient  Mariner.' 

"After  an  introduction  which  is  well  calculated  to  awaken  interest 
both  in  Coleridge  himself  and  in  poetry  as  a  form  of  literature,  the 
poem  is  set  before  us  with  Coleridge's  own  glosses  in  the  margin.  Notes 
are  added  at  the  bottom  of  each  page.  These  notes  are  well  worth 
examination  for  the  pedagogic  skill  they  display.  They  provide,  not  so 
much  information  about  the  text,  though  all  necessary  explanation  does 
appear,  but  suggestion  and  incitement  to  the  discovery  by  the  pupil  for 
himself  of  the  elements  in  the  poem  which  the  hasty  reader  only  feels,  if 
he  does  not  lose  them  altogether.  .  .  .  Any  good  teacher  will  find 
this  edition  a  veritable  help  to  the  appreciation  of  poetry  by  his  pupils." 
—Principal  Ray  Greene  Huling,  English  High  School,  Cambridge, 
Mass. 

"Mr.  Bates  is  an  interesting  and  charming  writer  of  verse  as  well  as 
prose,  and  makes  a  helpful  and  appreciative  teacher  to  follow  through 
the  intricacies  of  the  poem  in  question.  In  addition  to  extensive  notes 
and  comments,  the  book  has  a  well-planned,  brightly  written  introduc- 
tion, comprising  a  Coleridge  biography,  bibliography,  and  chronological 
table,  a  definition  of  poetry  in  general,  and  a  thoughtful  study  of  the 
origin,  form,  and  criticisms  of  this  particular  poem,  'The  Ancient 
Mariner.'  Teachers  and  students  of  English  are  to  be  congratulated  on. 
and  Mr.  Bates  and  his  publishers  thanked  for,  this  acquisition  to  the 
field  of  literary  study.  ''—Literary  World,  Boston. 

Milton's  •  L'Allegro.  Il  Penseroso.  etc.' 

"  Professor  Trent's  sympathetic  treatment  on  the  literary  side  of 
the  subject  matter,  makes  the  introductions  and  notes  of  more  than  usual 
interest  and  profit  ;  and  I  think  that  it  is  just  such  editing  as  this  that 
our  younger  students  need  in  approaching  the  works  of  the  great  poets." 
—J.  Russell  Hayes,  Assistant  Professor  of  English,  Swarthraore 
College,  Pa. 


η 


tONCMANS•   ENCLH^n   CLASSICS 


It  has  been  tlie  aim  of  the  publishers  to  secure  editors 
of  high  reputation  for  scholarship,  exi)erience,  and  skill, 
and  to  provide  a  series  thoroughly  adapted,  by  unifornuty 
of  plan  and  thoroughness  of  execution,  to  present  educa- 
tional needs.     The  chief   distinguishing   features  of   the 

series  are  the  following :  ,      ...      ι 

I  Each  volume  contains  full  "  Suggestions  for  1  each- 
ers  and  Students,"  with  bibliographies,  and,  in  many 
cases,  hsts  of  topics  recommended  for  further  reading  or 
study,  subjects  for  themes  and  compositions,  specimen 
examination  papers,  etc.  It  is  therefore  hoped  that  the 
series  will  contribute  largely  to  the  working  out  of  sound 
methods  in  teaching  English. 

2  The  works  prescribed  for  ,c.,M»g  are  treated,  in  every 
case,  as  literature,  not  as  texts  for  narrow  linguistic  study, 
and  edited  with  a  view  to  interesting  the  student  in  the 
book  in  question  both  in  itself  and  as  representative  of  a 
literary  type  or  of  a  period  of  literature,  and  of  leading 
him  on  to  read  other  standard  works  of  the  same  age  or 
kind  understandingly  and  appreciatively. 

,  These  editions  are  not  issued  anonymously,  nor  are 
they  hackwork,— the  result  of  mere  compilation.  I  hey 
are  the  original  work  of  scholars  and  men  of  letters  who 
are  conversant  with  the  topics  of  which  they  treat 

4  Colleges  and  preparatory  schools  are  both  repre- 
sented in  the  list  of  editors  (the  preparatory  schools  more 
prominently  in  the  lists  for  1897  and  1898),  and  it  is  in- 
tended that  the  series  shall  exemi>lify  the  ripest  methods 
of  American  scholars  for  the  teaching  of  Knghsli— the 
result  in  some  cases  of  years  of  actual  experience  in 
secondary  school  work,  and,  in  others,  the  formulation  of 
the  experience  acquired  by  professors  who  observe  care- 
fully the   needs  of  students  who   present  themselves  for 

admission  to  college.  ,       ,       ,„  ,,,μι 

ς    The  volumes  are  uniform  in  size  and  style,  are  wel 
printed   and   bound,   and  constitute   a  well-edited  set  of 
standard  works,  fit  for  permanent  use  and  possession-a 
nucleus  for  a  library  of  English  literature. 


LONGMANS,   GREEN,  b»  CO.' S  PUBLICATIONS. 


EPOCHS   OF  AMERICAN   HISTORY. 

MESSRS.  LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.  hove  the  pleasure  to  state 
that  they  are  now  publishing  a  short  series  of  books  treating  of  the  history 
of  America,  under  the  general  title  Epochs  of  American  History.  The 
series  is  under  the  editorship  of  Dr.  Albert  Bushnell  Hart,  Assistant 
Professor  of  History  in  Harvard  College,  who  has  also  prepared  all  the  maps 
for  the  several  volumes.  Each  volume  contains  about  300  pages,  similar  in 
size  and  style  to  the  page  of  the  volumes  in  Messrs.  Longmans*  series, 
'  Epochs  of  Modern  History,'  with  full  marginal  analysis,  working  bibliogra- 
phies, maps,  and  index.  The  volumes  are  issued  separately,  and  each  is 
complete  in  itself.  The  volumes  now  ready  provide  a  continuous  history 
of  the  United  States  from  the  foundation  of  the  Colonies  to  the  present 
time,  suited  to  and  intended  for  class  use  as  well  as  for  general  reading  and 
reference. 

\*  The  volumes  of  this  series  already  issued  have  been  adopted  for  use  as  text•' 
books  in  nearly  ail  the  leading  Colleges  and  in  many  Normal  Schools  and  other 
institutions.  A  prospectus,  showing  Contents  and  scope  of  each  volume t  specimen 
pages,  etc. ,  will  be  sent  on  application  to  the  Publishers, 


I.    THE  COLONIES,  1492-1750. 

By  Reuben  Gold  Thwtaites,  Secretary  of  the  State  Historical  Society  of 
Wisconsin;  author  of  *'  Historic  Waterways,"  etc.  With  four  colored 
maps.  pp.  xviii.-30i.     Cloth.     $1.25. 

CORNELL    university. 

**  I  beg  leave  to  acknowledge  your  courtesy  in  sending  me  a  copy  of  the  first 
volume  in  the  series  of  '  Epochs  of  American  History,'  which  I  have  read  with 
great  interest  and  satisfaction.  I  am  pleased,  as  everyone  must  be,  with  the 
mechanical  execution  of  the  book,  with  the  maps,  and  with  the  fresh  and  valua- 
ble 'Suggestions*  and  'References.'  ....  The  work  itself  appears  to 
me  to  be  quite  remarkable  for  its  comprehensiveness,  and  it  presents  a  vast 
array  of  subjects  in  a  way  that  is  admirably  fair,  clear  and  orderly." — Professor 
Moses  Coit  Tyler,  Ithaca,  N.  Y. 

WILLIAMS   COLLEGE. 

•*  It  is  just  the  book  needed  for  college  students,  not  too  brief  to  be  uninter- 
esting, admirable  in  its  plan,  and  well  furnished  with  references  to  accessible 
authorities." — Professor  Richard  A.  Rice,  Williamstown,  Mass. 

VASSAR  COLLEGE. 

"  Perhaps  the  best  recommendation  of  '  Thwaites*  American  Colonics  '  is 
the  fact  that  the  day  after  it  was  received  I  ordered  copies  for  class-room  use. 
The  book  is  admirable." — Professor  Lucy  M.  SALMON,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 

"  All  that  could  be  desired.  This  volume  is  more  like  a  fair  treatment  of  the 
whole  subject  of  the  colonies  than  any  work  of  the  sort  yet  produced.'' 

—  The  Critic. 

"  The  subject  is  virtually  a  fresh  one  as  approached  by  Mr.  Thwaites.  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  call  especial  attention  to  some  most  helpful  bibliographical  notes 
provided  at  the  head  of  each  chapter'' — The  Nation, 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


ίιίίίίΐίίΒ^ΐίίϊίί^ίΒΒίΐί^ί^'-^'-*'*''*'^'^'-^ 


LONGMANS,  CREEN,  &*  C Ο.' S  PUBLICATIONS, 


LONGMANS,   GREEN,   θτ»  CO.*S  PUBLICATIONS. 


EPOCHS   OF  AMERICAN  HISTORY. 

II.    FORMATION   OF  THE   UNION,   1750^-1829. 

By  Albert  Bushnell  Hart,  Ph.D.  Assistant  Professor  of  History  in 
Harvard  University,  Member  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society, 
AuthoT  of  **  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Federal  Government," 
"Epoch  Maps,"  etc.  With  five  colored  maps.  pp.  XX.-278.  Cloth, 
I125. 

The  second  volume  of  the  EPOCHS  OP  American  History  aims  to  follow 
out  the  principles  laid  down  for  "The  Colonies,"— the  study  of  causes 
rather  than  of  events,  the  development  of  the  American  nation  out  of  scattered 
and  inharmonious  colonies.  The  throwing  off  of  English  control,  the  growth 
out  of  narrow  political  conditions,  the  struggle  against  foreign  domination,  and 
the  extension  of  popular  government,  are  all  pans  of  the  uninterrupted  process 
of  the  Formatioa  ot  the  Unioa. 

LELAND    STANFORD    JR.     UNIVERSITY. 

"  The  large  and  sweeping  treatment  of  the  subject,  which  shows  the  true  re- 
lations of  the  events  preceding  and  following  the  revolution,  to  the  revolution 
itself,  is  a  real  addition  to  the  literature  of  the  subject ;  while  the  bibliography 
prefixed  to  each  chapter,  adds  incalculably  to  the  value  of  the  work."— Mary 
SHELDON  Barnes,  Palo  Alto,  Cal. 

"  It  is  a  careful  and  conscientious  study  of  the  period  and  its  events,  and 
should  find  a  place  among. the  text-books  ot  our  public  schools," 

— Boston  Transcript. 

"  Professor  Hart  has  compressed  a  vast  deal  of  information  into  his  volume, 
and  makes  many  things  most  clear  and  striking.  His  maps,  showing  the  terri- 
torial growth  of  the  United  States,  are  extremely  interesting." 

— jVrw  York  Times. 

•'  .  .  The  causes  of  the  Revolution  are  clearly  and  cleverly  condensed  into 
a  few  pages.  .  .  The  maps  in  the  work  are  singularly  useful  even  to  adults. 
There  are  five  of  these,  which  are  alone  worth  the  price  of  the  volume.  ' 

— Magazine  of  American  History. 

"  The  formation  period  of  our  nation  is  treated  with  much  care  and  with 
great  precision.  Blach  chapter  is  prefaced  with  copious  references  to  authori- 
ties, which  are  valuable  to  the  student  who  desires  to  pursue  his  reading  more 
extensively.  There  are  five  valuable  maps  showing  the  growth  of  our  country 
by  successive  stages  and  repeated  acquisition  of  territory." 

— Boston  Advertiser. 

'•  Dr.  Hart  is  not  only  a  master  of  the  art  of  condensation,  .  .  .  he  is 
what  is  even  of  greater  importance,  an  interpreter  of  history.  He  perceives 
the  logic  of  historic  events  ;  hence,  in  his  condensation,  he  does  not  neglect 
proportion,  and  more  than  once  he  gives  the  student  valuable  clues  to  the 
solution  of  historical  problems." — Atlantic  Monthly. 

"  A  valuable  volume  of  a  valuable  series.     The  author  has  written  with  a 
full  knowledge  of  his  subject,  and  we  have  little  to  say  except  in  praise." 

— English  Historical  Revievo, 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  9«-93  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


f 


I 


EPOCHS  OF  AMERICAN   HISTORY. 


III.  DIVISION   AND   RE-UNION,  1829-1889. 

By  WooDROW  Wilson,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Jurisprudence  in 
Princeton  College  ;  Author  of  "Congressional  Government,"  "The 
State— Elements  of  Historical  and  Practical  Politics,"  etc.,  etc.  With 
five  colored  Maps.     346  pages.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  We  regret  that  we  have  not  space  for  more  quotations  from  this  uncom- 
monly strong,  impartial,  interesting  book.  Giving  only  enough  facts  to 
elucidate  the  matter  discussed,  it  omits  no  important  questions.  It  furnishes 
the  reader  clear-cut  views  of  the  right  and  the  wrong  of  them  all.  It  gives  ad- 
mirable pen-portraits  of  the  great  personages  of  the  period  with  as  much  free- 
dom from  bias,  and  as  much  pains  to  be  just,  as  if  the  author  were  dehneating 
Pericles,  or  Alcibiades,  Sulla,  or  Caesar.  Dr.  Wilson  has  earned  the  gratitude  of 
seekers  after  truth  by  his  masterly  production."— Λ^.  C.  University  Magazine, 

•Λ  ",  '^ii^•  ^^"^^^''^f>le  little  volume  is  one  of  the  few  books  which  nearly  meet  our 
Ideal  ol  history.  It  is  causal  history  in  the  truest  sense,  tracing  the  workings  of 
latent  influences  and  far-reaching  conditions  of  their  outcome  in  striking  fact 
yet  the  whole  current  of  events  is  kept  in  view,  and  the  great  personalities  of 
the  time,  the  nerve-centers  of  history,  live  intensely  and  in  due  proportion  in 
these  pages.  We  do  not  know  the  equal  of  this  book  for  a  brief  and  trust- 
worthy, and,  at  the  same  time,  a  brilliantly  written  and  sufficient  history  of  these 
sixty  years.  We  heartily  commend  it,  not  only  for  general  reading,  but  as  an 
admirable  i^y.i-\iOQ\i:'—Post-Graduate  and  Wooster  Quarterly. 

..  "Considered  as  a  general  history  of  the  United  States  from  1820  to  1880. 
his  book  IS  marked  by  excellent  sense  of  proportion,  extensive  knowledge,  im- 
partiality of  judgment,  unusual  power  of^  summarizing,  and  an  acute  pohtical 
sense.     Few  writers  can  more  vividly  set  forth  the  views  of  parties." 

— Atlantic  Monthly. 
•'  Students  of  United  States  history  may  thank  Mr.  Wilson  for  an  extreme- 
^•n   if  ^j^"?  careful  rendering  of  a  period  very  difficult  to  handle    .     .  thev 

will  find  themselves  materially  aided  in  easy  comprehension  of  the  pohtici 
situation  of  the  country  by  the  excellent  maps."— yV.   Υ   Times. 

•'  Professor  Wilson  writes  in  a  clear  and  forcible  style.  .  .  .  The  bibli- 
ographical references  at  the  head  of  each  chapter  are  both  well  selected  and 
well  arranged,  and  add  greatly  to  the  value  of  the  work,  which  appears  to  be 
especially  designed  for  use  in  instruction  in  colleges  and  preparatory  schools." 

—  Yale  Review. 

"  It  is  written  in  a  style  admirably  clear,  vigorous,  and  attractive,  a  thorough 
grasp  of  the  subject  is  shown,  and  the  development  of  the  theme  is  lucid  and 
orderly,  while  the  tone  is  judicial  and  fair,  and  the  deductions  sensible  and 
dispassionate-so  far  as  we  can  see,  .  .  .  It  would  be  difficult  to  construct 
nc^n,f '  ""^""^^  ?i  the  subject  than  this,  and  it  adds  greatly  to  the  value  of  this 
usetul  series." — Hartford  Courant, 

"■  •  One  of  the  most  valuable  historical  works  that  has  appeared  in 
many  years.  The  delicate  period  of  our  country's  history,  with  which  this 
work  IS  largely  taken  up.  is  treated  by  the  author  with  an  impartiality  that  is 
Almost  uniquQ."— Columbia  Law  Times.  /  ^  «^  « 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York• 


E..ajA*iM«iflf-a 


LONGMANS,   GREEN,  &-  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


ENGLISH   HISTORY   FOR   AMERICANS. 

By  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  Author  of  "Young  Folks'  His- 
tory  of  the  United  States,"  etc.,  and  Edward  Channing,  Assistant 
Professor  of  History  in  Harvard  University.  With  77  Illustrations,  6 
Colored  Maps,  Bibliography,  a  Chronological  Table  of  Contents,  and 
Index.     i2mo.     Pp.  xxxii-334.     Teachers'  price,  $1.20. 

The  name  "  English  History  for  Americans,"  which  suggests  the  key-note  of 
this  book,  is  based  on  the  simple  fact  that  it  is  not  the  practice  of  American 
readers,  old  or  young,  to  give  to  English  history  more  than  a  limited  portion  of 
their  hours  of  study.  ...  It  seems  clear  that  such  readers  will  use  their 
time  to  the  best  advantage  if  they  devote  it  mainly  to  those  events  in  English 
annals  which  have  had  the  most  direct  influence  on  the  history  and  institutions 
of  their  own  land.  .  .  .  The  authors  of  this  book  have  therefore  boldly 
ventured  to  modify  in  their  narrative  the  accustomed  scale  of  proportion ;  while 
it  has  been  their  wish,  in  the  treatment  of  every  detail,  to  accept  the  best  re- 
sult of  modem  English  investigation,  and  especially  to  avoid  all  unfair  or 
one-sided  judgments.    .     .    •    Extracts  from  Author^ s  Preface, 

DR.    W.    T.    HARRIS,   U.    S.   COMMISSIONER  OF  EDUCATION. 

"  I  take  great  pleasure  in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  book,  and  be- 
lieve it  to  be  the  best  introduction  to  English  history  hitherto  made  for  the  use 
of  schools.  It  is  just  what  is  needed  in  the  school  and  in  the  family.  It  is  the 
first  history  of  England  that  I  have  seen  which  gives  proper  attention  to  socio- 
logy and  the  evolution  of  political  ideas,  without  neglecting  what  is  picturesque 
and  interesting  to  the  popular  taste.  The  device  of  placing  the  four  historical 
maps  at  the  beginning  and  end  deserves  special  mention  for  its  convenience. 
Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  the  publication  of  so  excellent  a  text-book.' 

ROXBURY  LATIN  SCHOOL. 
"...  The  most  noticeable  and  commendable  feature  in  the  book  seems 
to  be  its  Unity.  ...  I  felt  the  same  reluctance  to  lay  the  volume  down 
.  .  .  that  one  experiences  in  reading  a  great  play  or  a  well-constructed 
novel.  Several  things  besides  the  unity  conspire  thus  seductively  to  lead  the 
reader  on.  The  page  is  open  and  attractive,  the  chapters  are  short,  the  type 
is  large  and  clear,  the  pictures  are  well  chosen  and  significant,  a  surprising 
number  of  anecdotes  told  in  a  crisp  and  masterful  manner  throw  valuable  side- 
lights on  the  main  narrative  ;  the  philosophy  of  history  is  undeniably  there,  but 
sugar-coated,  and  the  graceful  style  would  do  credit  to  a  Macaulay.  I  shall 
immediately  recommend  it  for  use  in  our  school." — Dr.  D.  O.  S.  Lowell. 

LAWRENCEVILLE  SCHOOL. 

»'In  answer  to  your  note  of  February  23d  I  beg  to  say  that  we  have  intro- 
duced your  Higginson's  English  History  into  our  graduating  class  and  are 
much  pleased  with  it  Therefore  whatever  endorsement  I,  as  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Ten.  could  give  the  book  has  already  been  given  by  my  action 
in  placing  it  in  our  classes."— James  C.  Mackenzie,  Lawrenceville,  N.  J. 

ANN   ARBOR   HIGH    SCHOOL. 

"  It  seems  to  me  the  book  will  do  for  English  history  in  this  country  what 
the  'Young  Folks'  History  of  the  United  States'  has  done  for  the  history  of  our 
own  country— and  I  consider  this  high  praise." 

— T.  G.  Pattengill,  Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 


>» 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  Fi^h  Avenue,  New  York. 


I 


s 


LONGMANS,   GREEN,   d^  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  STUDENT'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND,  from 
the  Earliest  Times  to  1885. 

By  Samuel  Rawson  Gardiner,  M.A.,  LL.D.,  Fellow  of  All  Souls 
College,  Oxford,  etc.;  Author  of  "The  History  of  England  from  the 
Accession  of  James  I.  to  1642,"  etc.  Illustrated  under  the  superintend- 
ence of  Mr.  W.  H.  St.  John  Hope,  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Society 
of  Antiquaries,  and  with  the  assistance  in  the  choice  of  Portraits  of 
Mr.  George  Scharf,  C.B.,  F.S.A.,  who  is  recognized  as  the  highest 
authority  on  the  subject.  In  one  Volume,  with  378  Illustrations  and 
full  Index.     Crown  8vo,  cloth,  plain,  $3.00. 

The  book  is  also  published  in  three  Volumes  {each  with  Index  and 
Table  of  Contents)  as  follows  : 

VOLUME  I. — B.C.  55-A.D.  1509.    410  pp.    With  173  Illustrations  and  Index. 
Crown  8vo,  $1.20. 

VOLUME  II.— A.D.    1509-1689.      332  pp.     With  96  Illustrations  and  Index. 
Crown  8vo,  $1.20. 

VOLUME  III.— A.D.  1689-1885.     374  pp.     With  109  Illustrations  and  Index. 
Crown  8vo,  $1.20. 

V Gardiner's  "Student's  History  of  England,"  througli  Part  IX.  (to 
1789),  is  recommended  by  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY  as  indicating  the 
requirements  for  admission  in  this  subject ;  and  the  ENTIRE  work  is  made 
the  basis  for  English  history  study  in  the  University. 

YALE   UNIVERSITY. 

"  Gardiner's  '  Student's  History  of  England '  seems  to  me  an  admirable 
short  history.'' — Prof.  C.  H.  Smith,  New  Haven,  Conn. 

TRINITY   COLLEGE,  HARTFORD. 

'*It  is,  in  my  opinion,  by  far  the  best  advanced  school  history  of  England 
that  I  have  ever  seen.  It  is  clear,  concise,  and  scientific,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
attractive  and  interesting.  The  illustrations  are  very  good  and  a  valuable 
addition  to  the  book,  as  they  are  not  mere  pretty  pictures,  but  of  real  historical 
and  archaeological  interest." — Prof.  Henry  Ferguson. 

"A  unique  feature  consists  of  the  very  numerous  illustrations.  They 
throw  light  on  almost  every  phase  of  English  life  in  all  ages.  .  .  .  Never, 
perhaps,  in  such  a  treatise  has  pictorial  illustration  been  used  with  so  good 
effect.  The  alert  teacher  will  find  here  ample  material  for  u.seful  lessons  by 
leading  the  pupil  to  draw  the  proper  inferences  and  make  the  proper  interpre- 
tations and  comparisons.  .  .  .  The  style  is  compact,  vigorous,  and  inter- 
estinjT.  There  is  no  lack  of  precision  ;  and,  in  the  selection  of  the  details,  the 
hand  of  the  scholar  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  source  and  with  the  results 
of  recent  criticism  is  plainly  revealed." — The  Nation,  N.  Y. 

"  .  .  .  It  is  illustrated  by  pictures  of  real  value  ;  and  when  accompanied 
by  the  companion  '  Atlas  of  Knglish  History'  is  all  that  need  be  desired  for  its 
special  purpose." — 7 he  Churchman,  N.  Y. 

'\*^'i  prospectus  and  specimen  pages  of  Gardiner^ s  **  Studenf  s  History 
of  England'''*   will  be  sent  free  on  application  to  the  publishers. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91  and  93  Fifth  Ave.,  New  York. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &-  CO,^S  PUBLTCATIONS, 


LONGMANS'  SCHOOL  GRAMMAR. 

By  David  Salmon.    Part  I.,     Parts  of  Speech  \    Part  II.,     Classification 

and  Inflection  ;  Part  III.,     Analysis  of  Sentences  ;  Part  IV.,     History 

and  Derivation.     With  Notes  for  Teachers  and  Index.     New  Edition, 

Revised.     With  Preface  by  E.  A.  Allen,  Professor  of  English  in  the 

University  of  Missouri.     i2mo.     272  pages.     75  cents. 

••  .  .  One  of  the  best  working  grammars  we  have  ever  seen,  and  this 
applies*  to  all  its  parts.  It  is  excellently  arranged  and  perfectly  graded  Part 
IV.,  on  History  and  Derivation,  is  as  beautiful  and  interestmg  as  it  is  valuable 
—but  this  might  be  said  of  the  whole  book."— New  York  Teacher. 

••  The  Grammar  deserves  to  supersede  all  others  with  which  we  are  ac- 
quainted."—N.  Y.  Nation,  July  2.  1891. 

PREFACE  TO  AMERICAN   EDITION. 

It  seems  to  be  generally  conceded  that  English  grammar  is  worse  taught 
and  less  understood  than  any  other  subject  in  the  school  course.  This  is, 
doubtless,  largely  due  to  the  kind  of  text-books  used,  which,  for  the  most  part, 
require  methods  that  violate  the  laws  of  pedagogy  as  well  as  of  language. 
There  are.  however,  two  or  three  EngUsh  grammars  that  are  admirable  com- 
mentaries on  the  facts  of  the  language,  but,  written  from  the  pomt  of  view  of 
the  scholar  rather  than  of  the  learner,  they  fail  to  awaken  any  interest  m  the 
subject,  and  hence  are  not  serviceable  for  the  class-room.  ^        ,  ^, 

My  attention  was  first  called  to  Longmans'  School  Grammar  by  a  favorable 
notice  of  it  in  the  Nation.  In  hope  of  finding  an  answer  to  the  inquiry  of 
numerous  teachers  for  "  the  best  school  grammar,"  I  sent  to  the  Publishers  for 
a  copy.  An  examination  of  the  work,  so  far  from  resulting  m  the  usual  dis- 
appointment, left  the  impression  that  a  successful  text-book  m  a  field  strewn 
with  failures  had  at  last  been  produced.  For  the  practical  test  of  the  class- 
room, I  placed  it  in  the  hands  ol  an  accomplished  grammarian,  who  had  tried 
several  of  the  beet  grammars  published,  and  he  declares  the  results  to  be  most 

satisfactory.  .       ,  .     r  r    .     .u        j    1 

The  author's  simplicity  of  method,  the  clear  statement  of  facts,  the  orderiy 
arrangement,  the  wise  restraint,  manifest  on  every  page,  reveal  the  scholar  and 
practical  teacher.  No  one  who  had  not  mastered  the  language  in  its  eariy  his- 
torical development  could  have  prepared  a  school  grammar  so  free  from  sense- 
less rules  and  endless  details.  The  most  striking  feature,  minimum  of  precept. 
«Λ»-//««»ί  of  example,  will  commend  itself  to  all  teachers  who  follow  rational 
methods.  In  this  edition,  the  Publishers  have  adapted  the  illustrative  sentences 
to  the  ready  comprehension  of  American  pupils,  and  I  take  pleasure  in  recom- 
mending the  book,  in  behalf  of  our  mother  tongue,  to  the  teachers  oi  our  Pub- 
lic and  Private  Schools.  ,  ^  ^     ^ 

Edw^ard  a  Allen. 

University  of  Missouri,  May,  1891. 

MR.   HALE'S   SCHOOL,   BOSTON. 

"  I  have  used  your  Grammar  and  Composition  during  the  last  year  in  my 
school,  and  like  them  both  very  much  indeed.  They  are  the  best  books  of  the 
kind  I  have  ever  seen,  and  supply  a  want  I  have  felt  for  a  good  many  years.  — 
Albert  Halb,  Boston^  Mass. 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &^  CO.^S  PUBLICATIONS, 


LONGMANS'   SCHOOL  GRKyiMAR.^OPINlONS. 


GIRLS'  HIGH  SCHOOL.   BOSTON.   MASS. 

^-o^o,7lT^r:iki:i^^^^  in  my  hands,  some  year  or 

tion  and  approval.  The  exi^rnck^s  nfThf  >  "^  years  with  perfect  satisfac. 
cepted  that  course  in  gra?nmafaniL^^^^  t'^°^^   arrangements  inter- 

I  have  taken  the  book  and  hive  examfned  I  ^Ϊ?°γ  '"^  ""'"^  ^'^'^^•  '^  °-^^>^ 
simply  a  perfect  grammar  l^hl^nZt  ire  ΙηΓ  'π  ""'  '°  "°^^'••  ^'  ^^ 
and  reasonableness,  and  it  goes  arfeastouit^f»^  with  utmost  gentleness 
public  schools  course  it  is,  for  the  n?eLni  η  •  ^2!"  ^^  '"  ^"^  Ρο^-^^ο"  of  our 
author  has  adjusted  his  book  fol^'evervTes^  κ^  '^'"^u  °^  ^°'"^•     ^he 

and  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  instrnrinr  !   ^°"^^.^J^able  methods  of  teaching; 
should   so  taught,  becoi^^^  a  leisure  to  te.rh.r'^,.^  ^'^^  ,^  ^"'P'     GrammS 
rehsh  the  authors  pages  of  •  ΝοΙεΓίοΓ  t^J  κ     ^^  ^"ΐ  P"P'^•     ^.specially  do  I 
man  who  could  write  thLenoVes  should  enla^^^^^^^         '^"  ""^  «f  the  book.^  The 
caching  of  English  Grammar      He  wo„i57hfri^"'  'i^''  ^  monograph  on  the 
tion  to  our  stock  of  available  ped-iC  i  hSnc     ί'  ^^^  ""  valuable  contribu- 
while  the  book  in  question  has.  ί^Γ  cS  but  f-nli    """''       "^  '"  ''°''"^•  '^^* 
points  of  English  Grammar,  it  neve?  ncur.  thi         °<^^^5ΐοη  to  touch  disputed 
are  almost  sure  to  deserve,  of  insuffic  en?  armf^in?'"'^  '^-l^  '^^°°^  grammars 
science.     In  short,  the  writer  h?«ch!.u^^^^.'"^^"^^  ^'^^  modern  linffuistic 
gogically.  altogether  com^Tenrforhr^^^  scientifically,  as  well  as^p'da' 

—Principal  Samuel  Thurber. 


II 


high  school,  fort  WAYNE.  IND. 


school-booic,  especil^ly°o ν°ίΤη  En'o^ih  GrL^^'^'T  '°  ^"  enthusiastic  over  a 

I  write  to  express  my  /ratefuAnnref  intl.    r^^^       ^"^^  °"^  <>^  P^^e  enthusiasm 

the  best  English  Grammar  thari  have  ever '^^^^^  °"f '     Vh  ^^^^^°"'  excep^o^.' 

fifteen  years  of  age.     It  is  excenent  in  m!^.     ^^i"  for  children  from  twelve  to 

the  hand  of  a  wis!  and  skilful  teache       The'amhorT'^i^•     ^""^^  P^^«  ^^ows 

he  facts  of  English  Grammar  in  a  ulv  in.^fr    κί^"^  has  been  content  to  present 

intelligible  and\o  interestmg  from  start  ?ofin?^h^^h'^.  "^^^^'u^"•     '^^^  ^oik  is  so 

can  make  it  dry.     There  are  no  defini^'""=  '  ^^"'"'  *'^^"^°^^^ 

language,  no  facts  at  war  with  "he  definSt  '""τΤ"''""'  ^'ί  '^^  ^^^^^  «^  ^^^ 

are  more  "complete  "  and  as  correct  in  ^S^'k•  ^f  ^  ^'^  °^^^^  grammars  that 

with  it  in  adaptation  to  the  needs  of  von  η  If.  j"^  ^""K  "'^^  °"^  *«  ^^  compared 

mtelligence.'>_PRiNciPAL  C  T.  lIne^  students.     It  will  not  chloroform  the 

high  SCHOOL,  ΜΙΝΟΟΚΑ,  ILL. 
"  We  introduced  vour  «ir>ir>/^i  r^.. 
term.  andarehighlyLtisfied  wUh  the  Sts"'°ir'  '"^"S^  '"=  ^'''  °^  ">i» 
better  work  emnt  forth,  class  of  pupy|=,tU'^Sysig?ei-?.'  ""^  "  "° 

—Principal  E.  F.  Adams. 

NEWARK  ACADEMY,    NEWARK,  Ν     J 

>y  of  arrangement,  and  abundanee  of  sv,™.,'     Ψ  ^""""g  pomts  are  simplicl 
'.culars  I  know  of  „o  other  book^Tual  to'v"^-!  1?^^  X^^^frAKD   ""^  P"" 


LONGMANS.  GREEN,  &  CO.,  9X-93  Fifth  Avenue, 


New  York. 


LOMGMANS.  GREEN.  ^  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS 


STUDIES  IN  AMERICAN  EDUCATION. 

By  Albert  Bushnell  Hart,  Ph.D.     i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

Contents  •  Has  the  Teacher  a  Profession  ?— Reform  in  the  Grammar 
Schools— University  Participation,  a  Substitute  for  University  Extension- 
How  to  Study  History— How  to  Teach  History  in  Secondary  Schools—  I  he 
Status  of  Athletics  in  American  Colleges— Index. 

"  This  volume  consists  of  six  essays,  each  one  excellent  in  its  way.'' 

»u»  Yi#  u  —Public  Opinion^  New  York. 


••  Prof.  Hart  is  a  keen  observer  and  a  profound  thinker  ; 
American  education  is,  and  he  knows  what  it  ought  to  be 


he 


knows  what 
._  .  .  .  his  whole 
uealmeni  oFrhr^ubjeci  is'vigorous  and  original.  ."  ,  .  He  has  a  most  helpful 
artkk  on  the  study  of  history,  and  another  equally  significant  on  the  teaching  of 
history  in  the  secondary  schools."— ^i-ari?»,  Boston. 

-The  essays  on  'How  to  Study  and  Teach  History'  are  admirable  As 
education  is  a  unit,  the  same  methods  can  be  applied  in  all  grades.  Ί  he  relation 
of  college  curriculumsto  secondary  schools  is  the  underlying  subject  of  the  book 
but  itTstill  an  open  question  whether  secondary  schools  should  justify  their 
methods  because  they  prepare  for  college,  or  whether  they  should  assume  the 
Spendent  position:  that  they  furnish  such  knowledge  as  is  most  requ.si  e  for 
toys  and  girls  who  can  study  till  they  are  eighteen,  but  are  not  going  to  college 
T\s  easily  possible  to  take  this  attitude  and  yet  have  a  preparatory  class  for 
Harvard  in  the  same  high  -^\ioo\r— Literary  World,  Boston. 

''As  for  the  essays  themselves,  however,  only  words  of  praise  ought  to  be 
SDoken  The  style  is  clear,  concise,  active,  enlivened  by  apt  1  lustrations ; 
'breez; '  may  perhaps  be  the  word.  The  thought  is  practical  and  clear-headed, 
as  Profes^r  Hart  always  is,  and  the  essays  themselves  have  been  '  brought  down 
to  date.'  ''—School  Review,  Hamilton,  N.  Y. 

•'  This  new  volume  from  the  experience  and  pen  of  Professor  Hart  is  one  of 
DracticaJ  interest,  and  a  valuable  addition  to  the  rapidly  increasing  collection  of 
wcSion  iTeo^^^  .  .  •  While  all  the  chapters  are  interesting  perhaps  the 
one  nios"  hftSlg  to  the  general  reader  is  that  on  '  How  to  Study  History,  and 
SereTr  HaTshows  his  d^ecided  preferences  for  the  topical  method  of  s  udy. 
Thfs  chapTer  should  be  read  by  all  students  of  history  and  especially  by  those 
member^  of  private  classes,  of  which  so  many  are  to  be  found  in  our  villages  and 
clubs  all  through  the  conairy:'— Transcript,  Boston. 

"  His  studies  have  a  decidedly  practical  tendency,  and  together  constitute  an 
addition  to  our  steadily  growing  stock  of  good  educational  l^^erature^^  Chicago. 

"  The  author  is  especially  fitted  to  write  a  volume  which  has  the  rare  merit  of 
treating  current  educational  ideas  not  only  from  the  standpoint  of  the  teacher 
but  1Ϊ^  of  the  pupil,  the  board  of  education  and  the  public  at  large      The  book 
will  prove  specially  interesting  and  instructive  to^the  |e-al  re^^^^^^^        ^^.^ 

*' Whatever  Dr.  Hart  contributes  to  educational  or  historical  literature  is 
always  worth  reading,  and  teachers  will  find  these  -ays^-y  ^^^^^^  ^a. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  9ΐ•93  Fi^th  Avenue,  New  York. 


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2  1  1959 


